The Future Is Calling
by Christina Conlon
Summary: A young teenage girl.  A street-rat boy.  She's a typical Middle School student, he's barely scraping by.  Year: 2010.  Year: 1899.  They're from two completely different worlds, but both have a drive, a calling to save everything they know and love.
1. Off to Medda's

**Well, this is it! My first story to be published on ! I hope you all enjoy, and CC is much appreciated. This story is the first in a series I'm writing, so hopefully my writing will get better as it goes along! Okay, enough of my ramblings! Go ahead and read! =3**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies, Disney does. I do, however, own Christina, Luciel, Berry, Wizard, and pretty much anything/one you don't recognize.**

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**Chapter 1 – Off to Medda's**

_Spot_

I stood outside the Brooklyn Newsboys Lodging House, my foot tapping impatiently against the packed dirt.

_What's taking her so long?_

No one kept, I, Spot Conlon, King of Brooklyn, waiting. Of course, you could try telling _that _to Luciel.

Luciel; the one girl Newsie in Brooklyn, also known as Rosebud, was seventeen years old and the kindest person you would ever meet. Well, you couldn't really call her a Newsie, because that's not exactly what she was. No, she was really a housekeeper for the Lodging House. She cooked, cleaned, did the laundry, and kept Mr. Jenkins, the Lodging House owner, company during the day. But now was not the day. It was sunset, and if we expected to get to Medda's fashionably late, we had to go _now_. I let out an impatient sigh.

"Where is she?" I grumbled, pulling out my cane and tapping it softly on the ground. I heard the rustle of clothing and glanced at my side, where Wizard was now standing silently at my side. Wizard was a very quiet, secluded Newsie, and kept to himself most of the time. He was usually calmly watching the stars, as he believed in things like 'karma' and 'fate'… stuff like that. But now I could tell he was nervous from the way his head jerked from side to side slightly, as though he were looking for something. I cleared my throat as a sign for him to start talking. He turned to me, a worried look clouding his eyes.

"Uh, Spot," he began, twiddling his thumbs.

"Yeah?" I asked, not even sparing a glance.

"Um, well, you see, I've been… watching, the sun and the patterns of the water today and…" he trailed off, looking away.

"And wat, Wizahd?" I prompted, shooting him a small glare. His eyes didn't leave the ground, but he continued.

"Do you see how that sun rays on the water look, Spot?" His voice was barely a whisper now. I flicked my gaze over to the water. It was barely moving, and looked slow and thick, like it was oozing from the horizon line. The sun beams were sliding across the water, causing it to glow a bright red. I returned my gaze to Wizard, and quirked an eyebrow.

"Yeah, wat about it?"

Wizard shifted from one foot to the other hesitantly, before replying.

"It's a bad omen, Spot." His voice cracked, "Somethin' bad gunna happen, Spot, somethin' real bad."

I paused, letting his words sink in, and then let out a snort, causing him to jump slightly.

"Youse is too s'picious, Wizahd." I laughed, and then opened my mouth again to ask what the heck an omen was, when the door of the Lodging House swung open. I spun around, and the sight before me caused my breath to catch in my throat.

It was Luciel.

And she looked absolutely beautiful.

Her dress was a pure white; it looked almost like a wedding dress. It went all the way down to the floor, pooling slightly around her feet. Though it was mostly flat, it did fan out a little bit near her knees. Her sleeves were two thin straps of silver glass beads, pulled down past her shoulders. Her waist had a similar pattern running around it, and her torso area was slightly ruffled. She had two earrings that dangled like miniature chandeliers from her earlobes, their gray beads matching those of her sleeves. Part of her white-blonde hair was pulled back by a clip, and then rest falling in loose curls around her shoulders. Her warm brown eyes sparkled as she gazed at the crowd of Newsboys gawking at her, and her glossy pink lips were pursed into a nervous smile. Her eyes met mine, and she began to fiddle shyly with her dress. I sheathed my cane and quietly walked up to the steps and took her hand, kissing it lightly.

"Youse look great, Rosebud." I murmured, a smirk playing on my lips as I looked up at her blushing face. That beautiful, blushing face.

"Thanks, Spot," She murmured back, and daintily picked up her skirts and walking down into the crowd of Newsies, me never letting go of her hand. We took the lead and silently began the long walk to Irving Hall in Manhattan.

Most of the walk was uneventful, and Luciel and I were enjoying it, listening in silence to my Newsies chatting excitedly behind us. The sun had now finished setting, and the stars were beginning to make their entrance. I looked up at her and smiled (yes, she was taller than me), and she returned it with a soft, quick kiss. I turned my head back to the road, my grin widening. Suddenly, the shadows ahead of us shifted. I froze in mid-stride, and Luciel and the rest of my Newsies did the same. From the shadows stepped two men, stumbling and obviously drunk. I rolled my eyes as one shot a glare at us.

"Outta my way," he slurred between hiccups.

"You gets outta ours," I shot back, returning the glare. Two more men stepped out of the shadows, and I could tell that there were even more behind them.

_How many of them are there, anyways?_

"I wan' thaaaa' one," one of the men choked out, pointing a shaky finger at Luciel, "how much does she cooooost?"

I narrowed my eyes and pushed Luciel behind me protectively, drawing my cane out and pointing its freshly-shined tip at him threateningly.

"Lay one of yer greasy hands on her and youse'll get a soakin' woise than hell." I snarled, glaring at him icily. He just let out a gurgled laugh.

"Ise always gets what I waaaaaant," he slurred in a low whisper, "so step asiiiide."

I smirked.

"Make me."

That's all it took, two simple words. The man leapt at me, a wild look in his eyes. I stepped to one side; Luciel protectively buried in one arm, and knocked him to the ground with my cane. The rest of the drunken men and my Newsies met halfway in battle, clashing like two waves in a tide. I spun around as I heard heavy footsteps behind me, and jabbed out with my cane, causing another man to stumble back.

"Run, Luciel!" I yelled, shaking her off. She nodded, fear blazing in her eyes, and dashed away, soon getting lost in the crowd. I shook my head, hoping she'd be okay, and turned back to the battle. I threw myself at another man, blocking one of his blows and hitting him right in the gut with my fist. I then gave him a good knock to the head with my cane, leaving his limp body on the street as I looked around for one of my younger Newsies. The first one I spotted was Berry, my second in command's little brother. He was a pretty fast runner, as long legs ran in the family.

"Oi, Berry!" I called. He spun around from where he had just shot down a man with his sling shot, pinpointing me with his eyes and then scurrying over.

"Goes and get da Newsies at Medda's. It's right 'round da corner, gots it?" He nodded, his eyes wide, and dashed off into the crowd. But he had barely made it two feet when he ran head-first into a man of large build. With one smack to the face, Berry was sent spinning to the side of the road, his tiny body slamming up against the wall of a building and his eyes rolling to the back of his head. My eyes widened and I dashed over to him, kneeling over and pressing a hand to his chest. To my relief, he was still breathing; alive, just knocked out. I gently pulled him over into the shadows, hiding him among a few crates, hoping no one would find him until the fight was over. Well, there went our only hope for backup. I spun around, searching the crowd for the man who had knocked out Berry, but his face was no where to be found. I let out a growl of frustration and began to force my way back into the battle. My Newsies were faring pretty well, and hopefully the fight would be over soon. Skilled, alert Newsies had a better chance than angry, drunk men, right? But as I shouldered aside a few retreating men, I felt my throat tighten in horror and anger as my eyes focused in on one thing.

Luciel. She was pressed up against a wall, her eyes clouded thickly with fear and tears. A drunken man that looked not much older than us had her wrists in his own hands, his lips leaning in for the kill. I let out a high-pitched battle cry and flung myself at him, tearing him off of Luciel and spinning him around to face me. His wild eyes stared at me with shock, and I gave him a good left-hook before tossing him up against the wall, breathing heavily and furiously. His limp body slid down the wall and onto the ground, his head lolling to one side. I turned to face Luciel, who was staring at me with tears streaming down her cheeks. I took a single stride forward and pulled her into a tight hug. She buried her face into my chest and began to sob loudly.

"Spot…" she gasped out, "I was so scared."

"I knows," I murmured, stroking her hair, trying to calm myself down as well. "I knows." Then I looked around at the continuing battle, and pulled her away from me, my hands still gripping his shoulder tightly.

"We'se gotta get away from da fight, okay?" I told her, looking her in the eye. She sniffled and nodded, wiping her wet cheeks with one hand. I gave a small nod and then spun around, dragging her along with me. As we made our way slowly from the battle, I heard footsteps behind us. At first a thought it was just one of my Newsies, coming to make sure Luciel made it out safely, but when I glanced at its shadow I realized that the figure following us was much bigger than any of my Newsies, even Bear, and he was pretty darn big. I spun around, pushing Luciel behind me and held my cane out in front of me in a defensive position. The figure froze in the shadows.

"Who's dere?" I growled. I was sick and tired of playing shadow games. I wanted to fight.

The figure stepped out of the shadows. I recognized him instantly. He was the same drunk man who had wondered how much Luciel cost.

"Gimme da goiiiiil," he growled, stumbling a few steps forward. I let out a snarl and lunged, knocking him off his feet. We both went tumbling to the ground in a whirl of fists. I gave him an uppercut, and he returned it with a jab in the stomach. We both stumbled back, breathing heavily. Then, his eyes flared and he leapt again. I braced myself for another fall, but he sped right past me. I spun around to see Luciel up against a wall – again -, the man holding a knife to her throat.

Well, this is new.

"Let her go," I said in a dangerously low growl, taking a threatening step forward. "Now."

The man gave me a crooked smirk.

"Make me."

I lunged forward, barreling into him and knocking him into the ground. The knife went spinning off along the street. The man glanced at it as it slowed to a stop several feet away from us, and then turned back to me, glaring. He threw an unexpected punch right square in my face, throwing me off him and sprawled out onto the street. The man scrambled over and snatched up his knife. He then turned back to me, victory flaring in his amber eyes. I wanted to get away, I really did, but something held me in place. He then dashed at me, the knife raised high and crazy yowls escape his lips. The next scene took place in slow motion right before my eyes.

He's almost upon me, ready to plunge the knife into my chest, when a high-pitched cry of, "NO!" sounds from somewhere to the side. My eyes follow her body as Luciel throws herself at the man, her tiny form body-slamming up against his. He spins around to face her, the knife slicing across her in the process. Red spurts out from her neck and she eyes widen in shock and horror. She falls to her knees, her hands clutching her throat as she lets out a strangled cry. Her eyes gently close, and a few inaudible words escape her lips before she falls to the ground, motionless, blood slowly pooling around her, staining her pure white dress. Then everything returns to normal, only ten times worse.

"Lu…ciel…" I murmur, my lips barely parting as I choked out her name. Then my eyes snap over furiously to the man, who is staring at her lifeless body as though it were the moon, just fallen from the sky. My eyes narrow at him angrily and I leap to my feet, grabbing my cane from where it was lying beside me and charge at him, yelling her name over and over again. He turns to face me, glowering, and meets me, his knife clashing against my cane. We break apart, each breathing heavily. Then he swipes out one hand, completely out of the blue, and knocks my cane away. I watch it twirl though the air and land inches away from Luciel's body. I then turn back to him, but before I can process what's happening, I see him jabbing something at my face, a sharp pain between my eyes, and then darkness. Complete darkness.

I felt like I was floating. I couldn't see anything, and I couldn't speak. But I could hear. A loud wind was whistling all around me. I tried to move, but I couldn't. I felt panic rise up inside of me. I was used to always knowing what to do, always being in control. But now the two main things in my life had been stripped from me.

First, my senses. I felt like a tiny child who knew nothing.

Second, my power. I let myself go limp in defeat.

_Dear Lord, take me quickly…_

**I managed to kill off two main characters in the first chapter! Wowzies! Well, at least Spot knows what an omen is, right? X3**

**So… what didja think? =3 I did my best! I had to rewrite this chapter three times, and the original one didn't even have Luciel! I hope things didn't seem too rushed. Chapter 2 is already written, I just have to fix up a few things on it… Thanks for reading! =)**


	2. Once Upon a February

**Here it is; Chapter 2! Originally, this was two separate chapters, but I decided to just mush it together into one big fat chapter! OMGosh, did I just say mush? Mush! NEWSIES! Tee-hee, ADD! X3**

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**Chapter 3 – Once Upon a February**

_Christina_

I sat in my living room basement, February 9th, 2010, my eyes glued to the screen of our new, hugemongous TV. I grinned as the boys on the screen began to race towards the gates. Then they opened to reveal a hoard of burly men with clubs and other blunt weapons marching in. A boy with a round face and New York accent spun around, his eyes wide, shouting, "Oh Jack! Jack it's a trick!" I had seen it all before, and it wouldn't be the last time, either. I watched as Jack was circled by Morris and Oscar, and an all-out brawl began.

Suddenly, the screen flashed to boys popping up from the rooftops, staring down proudly at the fight. Then, a boy with bright red suspenders leapt down onto what I _think _was the top of a wagon, and then gave a little, impish grin, declaring, "Never fear, Brooklyn is here!"

I bounced up from my seat, letting out one of my infamous rabid fangirl screams.

"OMAIGOSH OMAIGOSH OMAIGOSH!" I squealed into delight, my eyes never leaving the screen. "It's SPOT CONLON! Oh, how I love that line! It just inspires me MOAR!" I grabbed a pen and notepad that was seated beside me, scribbling down a sudden idea for my next Newsies fan fic.

Suddenly, my tabby cat, Tom, leapt up into my lap, thrusting his face into mine and giving out a loud _mrrow._

"Daggonit, cat, I can't see the screen!" I growled, trying to peek over him at the hawtness. I just barely saw Spot Conlon wrenching open the gates, his sweaty face and hatless head looking smug but happy.

I sighed dreamily. _He looks even hotter without his hat on… _Then the stupid cat meowed again.

"Fine, fine, I'll let you out." I grumbled, and paused the movie and headed up the stairs, my cat only a few paces ahead of me as I muttered gibberish under my breath. But instead of dashing over to the sliding glass door that led to the backyard like he usually did, Tom instead padded over to the front door, looking at me with big, expectant green eyes.

"Out there?" I asked, unlocking the door. "For seriously? Okay, if you say so…"

I opened the door, a blast of freezing cold air smacking me right in the face. I screwed my eyes shut, and then opened them again a moment later to see that my cat had already disappeared.

"Idiot." I grumbled, and was just about to close the door, when something caught my eye. I turned back towards the door, staring curiously at the thing sprawled out in the snow. It was multiple colors; the head of it looked kind of fuzzy and gray, and then it was brown and pigment from there on… until it came to the torso, which was a blue/gray/white plaid, with two thick red stripes on either side. The legs were a dark brown, and then a little more pigment, and then some tattered black feet. I let out a small gasp. The thing looked sort of… _human_.

Not hesitating a moment longer, I dashed out into the snow, my Ni-hao Kai-Lan t-shirt and fuzzy black sweatpants all that was covering me. I felt like I was going to die of hypothermia as my feet sunk into the crunchy white snow, but I ignored it. Whatever that thing was, it needed my help. Especially if it was a human.

It didn't take me long to wade through the snow to the UMO (Unidentified Motionless Object). It was sprawled out, half-buried and face-down in the snow. I bent down next to it and gasped rather loudly. It _was_ a human!

I rolled the human over. Looking at it's clothing, it was probably a boy. Not many girls wore suspenders these days. _No one _really wore suspenders anymore, in fact.

_Outdated freak. _I thought, and then pressed my ear it his chest. I heard a heartbeat, but it was barely there. Slow and faint. I gently cupped one of the boy's hands in mine. It was deathly cold, and almost as white as the snow. I looked him over. His trousers and shirt were caked with frost, and his hat lay over his eyes. His lips were thin and pale, wrinkled and chapped, starting to take on a tint of blue. His nose wasn't much better, and his ears were starting to turn purple-ish black. I bit my lip. How long had he been out here?

Gently, silently, I placed his hand on his chest, and then slowly lifted his cap. For a moment I forgot how to breathe.

"Oh. My. Gosh." I gasped out, gazing down at the frost-tipped eyelashes.

_Sp-Spot Conlon?_

After a few attempts to get air into my lungs, I finally was able to exhale and inhale in rhythm. My heart wouldn't slow down, though. I felt it hammering against my chest. I had never seen Spot so… helpless.

_Are you going crazy, Christina? Spot Conlon is played by Gabriel Damon, who is now around thirty or forty years old. This kid is probably just a cosplayer. But what the heck is he doing, lying half-dead in the snow? _I shook my head. Cosplayer or no, this guy needed my help and I wasn't just going to let him freeze to death. Not in my yard, anyways. But the question was how to get him into the house? He looked too heavy to carry (especially if you're a wimp like me), and no one else was home. With a sigh, I slipped my arms under his and began to drag his limp body up the slope and to my front stoop. It took a while, but I finally managed to get him up the concrete stairs with only a few bumps. I kicked the door open with one foot and then hurriedly drug him in. I heard a loud thump when he hit the little overhang that my door rested on. I flinched, but the supposed 'Spot Conlon' didn't react.

_He must've really gotten wiped out! _I thought as I carefully got him up and over the bump. Then I drug him across the messy living room and then helped him onto the couch. I lifted his head and set a fluffy, cotton-stuffed pillow under it. I managed to pull his hat (which was pretty much frozen to his hair) off his head and set it off to the side. I looked down at him with concern. He was practically dead, and besides the faint rise and fall of his chest, he was completely still. For a while I just sat there, staring at him, wondering what to do next. I'd read about this situation before, when someone was dying of the cold. What had their rescuer done to save them?

_Taken their wet clothes off._

Gulp.

Great, how was I going to do this? Sure, I was a rabid fangirl, but I wasn't a pervert. Plus, I was Christian. I couldn't just strip I guy of his clothes!

_But if you don't, he might die. _The tiny voice in my head murmured. That was true. Saving somebody wasn't a sin. I sighed. _Here goes nothing._

First, I undid his suspenders. Easy enough. Despite the situation, I couldn't help but giggle, and think, _OMGosh! I got to TOUCH Spot Conlon's red suspenders! Whee!_

Then came the hard part. My heart pounding, I slowly unbuttoned his shirt. The frost had now melted off, leaving the poor thing looking like a drowned rat.

_A cute drowned rat. _I smiled at myself, and then got mentally slapped. _Shut up, idiot!_

Once I was finished with my unbuttoning job, I peeled the plaid rag off of his body.

_Don't stare… don't stare… don't stare…_

Now came the really, _really _hard part.

The pants.

Working as quickly as possible, I undid the single button and slid his pants down to reveal white, knee-length underwear.

_Alright, that's as far as I'm going. _I told myself. Then, I took his clothes and laid them out flat on the floor. I'd get them in the wash later. I glanced back at the still motionless boy. Now what? Quietly, I crawled over and bent down, breathing lightly onto his ears. This felt weird, breathing into a guy's face. Then I cupped his purple-tinted ears with my hands and gently rubbed them. Dang, they were _cold_! After a while, they finally returned to normal color. Then I rubbed his nose. It didn't take as long to thaw out. Then I ran into the kitchen and poured a little, lukewarm water into a cup. I ran back in and poured a little of this water over his lips. They instantly unfroze and returned to normal pigment. I let out a sigh of relief, but it didn't last long.

Suddenly, he stirred. I stiffened and looked around wildly, wondering what to do. _Crap, crap, crap! _I don't know why I was panicking, but I was.

I saw his eyes flutter opened. He blinked several times to adjust his eyes to the light and groaned.

"Where am I?"

I just sat there and stared as he pulled himself into a sitting position. I sunk to the ground, hoping to crawl away unnoticed. Epic fail.

His eyes snapped over to me. Eep! He just stared, and then his gaze slowly floated around the room, taking everything in. Then he took a deep breath.

"You," he pointed to me. "Where am I?"

"Uh… my house." I squeaked. Even though he had just woken up from a serious knock-out, his eyes were already sparking alive, boiling over with authority. And he didn't look to happy, either.

"And who are you?" He demanded. I opened my mouth to reply, but then, he noticed his bare chest.

"Where are my clothes?" He practically screeched. I flinched away.

"O-over there," I stuttered, pointing to where I had neatly laid out his pants and shirt across the floor.

His eyes flashed and I thought he was going to fling himself at me and pound me into the floor. But he just sat there, glaring at me with silent fury. And that alone was almost worse than being soaked.

Finally, I whispered, "I'll uh… go get you something dry to wear." and scurried off. I dashed into my parent's room and looked around. Though my dad's clothes were _way _too big for him, I knew I had to find him something to wear. Finally, I decided on my dad's honten, which is like a Japanese robe or jacket. It was a dark, navy blue plaid with little white symbols sewn into it. I grabbed it from where my dad had hung it on his little chair and hurried back out to the living room. When I entered I saw that he had made himself comfortable on the couch. I tossed the honten to him.

"Here, put this on." I mumbled, turning my back to him. "It might be a bit big but it's the best I could find."

After a few seconds I turned back. Yep, it was way too big for him. But it still looked nice and warm.

"So, uh, anything else you need?"

Spot just stared.

"Well, then," I shifted uncomfortably. Did I have something on my face? "I'll go get-" I let out a squeak as something wrapped around my wrist and pulled me down onto the couch. I sat down with a _thump_. The guy draped his arm along the back of the couch behind me, a small smile playing on his lips.

"I cud do with sum an'surs, sugah." He said smoothly. I blushed.

"Oh, um, okay then… can I ask you one thing first?" I couldn't let the guy get to me. That's what he wanted.

He narrowed his eyes, but nodded.

"Well, um… who are you?" I did my best to avert his gaze, which was not an easy task.

The boy paused, and then after a bit, finally murmured, "Conlon; Spot Conlon."

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**Dun dun dun DUN! =O Okay, I know that for my little rabid fangirl moment, words weren't spelled correctly, there were fragment sentences, etc., but it was supposed to be that way, because that's my personality. I'll try not to do that too much though, otherwise the story will be crap. Anyways, Chapter 3 is halfway done and being written as we speak! TTFN-TTYL!**


	3. Questions & Answers

**A/N: Just so you know, Christina is AKA ME! ^__^; Just in case no one knew that… So, most/all of the events in this (besides Spot coming, no duh) actually happened! =3**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Newsies… yet… =3**

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**Chapter 3 – Questions & Answers**

_Christina/Spot_

I just stared.

"Sp…Spot C-Conlon?" I squeaked out. He smirked.

"So ya hoid of me?"

"Uh, yeah…" I glanced down at my hands which were set tightly in my lap.

"Now, my toin to ask ya some questions," he shifted slightly, his hand falling lightly on my shoulder. I felt my blush deepen and I hurriedly pushed it back up to the couch. He glanced down at me before returning his gaze to slowly looking around the living room.

"So, foist off, wat's your name, sugah?" He smirked, and I rolled my eyes at his arrogance.

"Well, it's _not _'sugah'," I replied tartly, imitating his New York accent, "so stop calling me that. It's Christina, and that's all I go by." Spot nodded, and I swore I heard him repeat my name under his breath, but he moved so quickly to the next question that I might've been hearing things.

"Now, where is I?"

"My house," I replied as confidently as I could. Spot nodded again.

"Why is I here?" he questioned. I took a deep breath. Here goes nothing…

"Well, I found you out in the snow outside my house, unconscious. So I brought you inside. I uh… also took your clothes off so that you would be able to warm up." Once I had finished, I let out a small sigh of relief. Hopefully that had cleared some things up. Then I looked up at Spot and realized that he was staring at the computer.

"Wat's dat?" he asked, pointing to it with his other hand.

"A computer," I replied, and seeing the confused look still on his face, added, "I'll show you later." He gave a small nod before tossing his next question.

"Wat day is it?" he asked, a slightly dazed look now in his eyes. It was Jahly backs in Brooklyn…"

My eyes widened in feigned surprise, "you're from Brooklyn?" I asked, pretending to be shocked. Spot nodded.

"This is Wisconsin…" I murmured, "its January 20th… 2010." I added the year after a small pause, hoping to get a reaction. And I did.

I felt Spot stiffen beside me.

"20…10?" For some odd reason, I felt bad for shocking him speechless. I didn't like him being so speechless, so the conversation starter that popped into my head, I went with.

"You can stay with me and my family." I blurted out. Spot's eyes widened before a flirtatious spark lit them, and he smirked.

"Why is youse jus' pullin' a strangah intah ya house, sugah? Youse must be desp'rate-"

"I am not!" I all but shouted, but that just made his smirk widen. "Besides," I added, crossing my arms over my chest, "if you really don't want to stay, I can always throw you back out into the snow."

His smirk disappeared, but then he let out a contented sigh and lounged back on the couch, closing his eyes in satisfaction. I tried to get up, but he just grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back to him.

"Jus' where do ya tink youse is goin'?" He mumbled sleepily.

"I'm going to the kitchen," I replied hotly, prying myself from his grip. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll leave you to rest."

Spot didn't reply, so I quietly slipped away to get something to eat.

After about an hour or so, Spot finally woke up from his nap. I was sitting in the rocking chair directly across from the couch. He stretched and yawned, mumbling gibberish under his breath. I looked up from my book and smiled.

"Glad you're awake," I said, setting my book on the lamp table beside the rocker. I then stood and walked over to him, where he was gazing up at me with half-asleep eyes.

"Would you like anything?" I asked, trying to act as hospitable as possible. Spot just grunted.

"Uh, how about some hot chocolate?"

This caught his attention.

"Hawt chocolit?" he demanded, sitting up strait and eyeing me with stormy blue orbs.

"It's a type of drink," I explained, "it's sweet and warm, and relaxing."

Spot paused, then nodded.

"Okay… I'll go make us some." I hurried to the kitchen and began to boil some water. As it boiled, I pulled out to packets of 'Swiss Miss Hot Chocolate'. Then I just stood there, watching steam rise from the kettle. Suddenly, I felt a hand grip my shoulder. I spun around with a yelp to find myself eye-to-eye with Spot's stormy blues twinkling with amusement.

"Geez, Spot," I snapped, "You scared me!"

Spot smirked (what else is new?) briefly before turning to the microwave and asking, somewhat curiously, "Wat's dis, 'Tina?"

_Tina? _I thought with a small giggle, but aloud replied, "It's a microwave, Spot. It heats up food faster than a fire would." Spot just looked at me like I was speaking a different language. I sighed.

"Here, let me show you." I walked over to the fridge and pulled out a box of leftover wild rice.

"Feel this," I told him, removing the lid and holding it out. Hesitantly, Spot extended his hand and gave the rice a little pat, then watched in silence as I put it in the microwave and hit 'reheat', punching in 20 seconds and then pressing 'start'. We both stood and watched in silence until the microwave beeped, signaling that it was done (and causing Spot to jerk in surprise). Just as I was about to open the door of microwave, there was a faint popping noise and all the lights went off. The kettle stopped boiling and all the clocks and radios turned off.

"Wat's goin' on, 'Tina?" Spot demanded. He didn't sound worried, just annoyed and _maybe _a little curious.

"Busted a fuse," I replied with a loud sigh. "I forgot you can't have the kettle and the microwave going at the same time." Then I turned and began to climb down the staircase that led to the basement (which was just around the corner).

"Where's ya goin'?" Spot called out urgently.

"Downstairs," I replied back, continuing to descend, "I'll be right back. Just gotta fix something real quick-like…"

*

I watched in silence as Christina disappeared down the staircase and into the darkness. I looked around, taking everything in through a small shaft of light that entered through a small window above the sink. A few of the things in the kitchen looked somewhat like things back in 1899, but it all looked… shinier. Most of the stuff in the room, however, I didn't have even a remote idea of what it was.

Suddenly, the room became one, giant light. Every single light turned back on, the timer went off on the 'microwave', green digital numbers flashed all around me… I stumbled back, ramming into a chair, which toppled over onto the ground. It caught me under the leg in the process, and took me down with it. I fell with a loud crash, tangled up among chair legs, my own limbs, and the weird coat Christina gave me. I groaned and blinked my eyes open to see Christina standing above me, a tiny, pale hand over her mouth in an attempt to hide her giggle. I shot her my best, infamous glare.

"It's not funneh," I snapped up at her, struggling to untangle myself. She removed her hand and rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"Sure, whatever you say, Spot." She smiled, and bent over to help me. She helped me unwrap the 'honten's sleeve from the chair leg, and I felt my skin tingle at her touch. I felt my insides lurch. No one else had made me feel that way but… _Luciel. _ With a scowl, I pushed her away and leapt to my feet, straitening out the honten and brushing off my underwear. I snuck a glance at her face. She looked momentarily hurt, but it was soon replaced with a small smile and she turned her back to me, reaching for the kettle and pouring the steaming water into two cups. She then took one in each hand and turned back, her smile even wider than before. It didn't even look fake, it just looked… bright. She extended one of the cups to me, and I took it reluctantly, almost dropping it when the unexpected heat reached my fingertips. Instead, I swiftly removed my hand from the cup's body and to the handle, which was thankfully cool enough to hold without pain. Christina took a seat at the kitchen table, and I joined her. After a few moments of silence and staring into our mugs, she finally spoke.

"So…" her gaze flittered around the room, landing on anything but me. "Do you have any idea on how you ended up in 2010?"

I shook my head, and took a large swig of my hot chocolate. I swallowed it painfully, wondering if you were supposed to let it cool off first.

"What were you doing before you ended up here? Do yo remember anything?" She was now looking at me intently, her eyes holding concern and… something else. I took another, smaller sip of the warm drink. _How much should I tell her?_

"Well," I replied slowly, "I was headin' ta Medda's…" I glanced at her. She didn't seem confused. Did she already know about Irving Hall? How much else did she know?

"An'," I continued, pushing the thoughts to the back of my mind, "Me and me Newsies was 'ttacked by a bunch o' drunks. I tink… I tink I might'a been stabbed by one of 'em or somethin'." I ended, not sure what else to tell her. I didn't add Luciel into the story. She was still a… tender, subject for me. Christina nodded, and then opened her mouth to say something, when the sound of a door slamming and a feminine voice rang out from the living room.

"Christina-honey, I'm home!"

- - -

**Oh noes! Who could it be! Tee-hee! I'll give you a hint: the next chapter is titled, "Convincing Mom". Well, I might've just given away my next chapter plot, but oh well! There'll be more to the chapter than that! Anyways, hope you enjoyed and stuff! Chappie 4 coming soon! =)**


	4. Convincing Mom

**Tee-hee, aren't I just on a ****role**** with these chapters? Don't get too used to it, though; I'm not sure how long it'll last.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. If I did, there would be a whole movie just for Spot! *toothy grin* And, of course, I would spend all the funds to invent an Eternal Youth potion so that Gabriel Damon would stay young and beautiful forever! No 'fence, Gabey! You're still good-lookin' even in your later years! ;3 Anyways, on with the show!**

**- - -**

**Chapter 4 – Convincing Mom**

_Christina_

Oh Crap.

My Mom.

Was home.

Spot shot me a confused glance and opened his mouth to say something, but I quickly slapped a hand over his mouth. His confused look turned to a hard glare, but I ignored it.

"Christina?" I heard my mom call, "Where are you, sweetie?"

_My mom, _I mouthed to Spot. He still looked confused and I rolled my eyes.

"She does not enjoy surprise guests, Spot," I hissed, "Especially if they're from the past and _boys_!"

Spot gave a slow nod, and I removed my hand from his mouth.

"Wat awre wese gunna do, 'Tina?" He whispered, leaning over the table to get closer to me. I let the improv part of my brain take over, and I soon had an almost-fool-proof plan hatched. I gave Spot a small, reassuring smile and then grabbed his hand, hoisting him up from his seat and twirling him behind me.

"Give me the honten," I whispered. He hesitated, and I heard my mom begin to walk into the kitchen. "NOW, Spot!"

He jumped slightly and nodded, pulling off the honten and tossing it over my shoulder. I caught it and slipped it on, then held it out on either side of me, creating a curtain to hide Spot behind.

"Stay behind me," I whispered. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but thought better of it and remained silent, save a small murmur of agreement. I began to shuffle forward, careful to keep the honten in front of Spot, who was crouched down and crawling along behind me.

"Hiya, Mom!" I shouted cheerfully, giving her a toothy grin as I met her halfway to the kitchen. Her face brightened when she saw me, but when she lunged forward for a hug, I whipped to the side, kicking Spot in the process. He stumbled back into the hallway, shot me a glare, and began to sidle back into place behind me, but I shook my head.

"Go get something to wear!" I hissed, "Second door on the left." He nodded and scurried away. I turned back to my mom, who had just finished regaining her balance, and let the honten folds fall to my side. I gave her an innocent smile and helped her straiten up.

"Sorry, mom," I said, "You kinda scared me, no offence. I just didn't see it coming, that's all." My grin widened as my mom nodded and pulled me into a hug. _This plan is perfect…_

"Christina, what are those wet clothesdoing on the floor?"

…_With some cracks._

"Uhh… oh, well, y'see…" I stumbled through my words, struggling to find an answer. Well, may as well tell her the truth…

"Uh, you may not believe me, but… um, well…" I took a deep breath, and launched into the story for the second time that day.

"I was innocently watching Newsies, and then I let the cat out, and then I saw a boy frozen in the snow. I brought him in, cleaned him up, got him some hot chocolate, and found out he was Spot Conlon from 1899. Apparently he died fighting some drunken men, and somehow ended up in our time, AKA 2010. So now he's in you and Dad's room trying to find something to wear and… yeah, that's about it."

My mom blinked.

"…What?"

I sighed, shaking my head. Let me rephrase that…

"Mom, I found Spot Conlon in our front yard, and now he is in the house, alive, as we speak."

She blinked again, then laughed.

"Oh, dear, you got me there!" She giggled, pulling off her coat walking back to the living room to hang it up.

"But Mom," I protested, following her like a lost puppy, "I'm not joking! This is for real! I can prove it!"

As though on cue, Spot stumbled in, tripping over a pair of much-to-large jeans. The sight of him would've made me laugh out loud, had my mother not been standing right next to me in total shock.

Spot had on a pair of faded, light blue jeans, which three Spot's could've fit into, and a brown-and-white striped work shirt. He had all the buttons buttoned, but the sleeves were so long that they fell well over his hands, and he was continuously flipping them so that they would fall back along his arm and uncover his hands.

"'Tina," he called, his eyes fixed intently on his belt buckle, which he was fumbling with, "Dese 'tupid clothes wo't-" he cut off as his eyes snapped up, his gaze meeting with mine before floating over to my mom. He cracked a smirk.

"Top o' da mornin' to ya, Ma'am." He said in a horrid mix of English and New York accent, tipping an invisible hat. I turned my gaze to my mother, who just stood there silently, staring at Spot as though he were Michael Jackson, back from the dead. So there we all stood, Spot in the entrance to the hallway, and my and my mom staring at him from the edge of the living room.

Spot, with oversized clothes and a crooked grin, smiling up at us like some child on Christmas morning.

My mom, with her purse dangling from her fingertips and her mouth agape in silent shock.

And me, standing there, wondering how the heck to sort this all out.

Overall, the silence was so deafening that a fire truck could bust through the wall, zoom past, bust through the other wall, and none of us would've heard it. Finally, I thought of the perfect thing to say. Turning to Mom, I cracked another toothy grin.

"Toldja so."

* * *

"Christina, no. Just no."

"But Mo-om!" I whined, trailing after her as she entered the kitchen.

"I already said no, and that's final." She replied firmly, opening the fridge door and pulling out a jug of water.

"But Mom," I protested, my shoulders sagging and my arms flailing as I tried to convince her to let Spot stay, "he's got no where else to go! And we can't just throw him back out into the snow. There are no lodging houses in 2010, as far as I know. At least, not here in Mayville, Wisconsin."

My mom sighed and shook her head, pouring herself some water into a tall green glass. I straitened up and folded my arms across my chest. After I had sent Spot back into my parent's bedroom to go and find something smaller to wear, my mother and I had began a heated debate on what to do with the guy. Me, I was on the awesome side; I wanted Spot to stay. My Mom, she was on the loser side; she wanted nothing to do with him.

"Got nothing to say, huh?" I grinned impishly, cocking a hip and narrowing my eyes in pleasure at her silent form. She shot a glare at me.

"Don't sass, girl." She replied snappishly.

"I'm not sassing," I explained matter-of-factly, "I just really, really, really, really, _really _want Spot to stay!"

My mom sighed and sat down, taking a large swig of her water before replying.

"I don't know, sweetie, it's just… he'd be the only boy in the house besides your father, and he'd be another child to care for and I've already got to pay for you and your sister… it's just… Oh, I don't know." She finished with a large sigh, placing her head in her hands and shaking it back and forth.

"Mom, Spot is, like, fifteen. He can take care of himself. And, we can get him enrolled into school a little late, right? We can figure out some totally believable story and everything! And you won't have to buy extra food or anything; he's used to small rations and will probably be blown away by our normal-sized meals. What I'm trying to say is…" I paused, unsure how to present my overall concept to her.

"Can we keep him?"

A small smile played the lips of my mother, and finally she let out a small sigh.

"Fine, but-"

"YES!" I shouted, leaping up into the air, and then with my landing attempting to do something that was somewhat like Racetrack's 'King of New York' jig.

"-But," My mother continued, looking slightly annoyed that I had interrupted her, "I have to call your father and make sure that it's all right with him. Also, I want you to keep your hands off of him and his off of you. And finally," I rolled my eyes. She was the Queen of Speech, but still…

"I want you to figure out how we're going to house him. Where he'll sleep, his cover-up story, where we'll store his things, all of that. Understood?"

"Caposh!" I replied cheerfully. My mom laughed and then spun around, reaching for the phone and dialing a number. I spun around and happily began to race down the hallway, only to bump into some sort of solid wall. I looked up to see Spot smirking down at me.

"Wat's da rush, sugah?" he said impishly. I giggled, only to be interrupted by Mom.

"Hands off, you two!" she shouted from the kitchen. I laughed and rolled my eyes.

"Yes, Mom!" I called back, and then turned to Spot, a huge grin on my face. I swept my gaze over him and smiled. He had gotten a bit… creative with his clothes. He still had the same thing on, but he had pinned his sleeves up with some safety pins (Heaven knows how he managed to do so without stabbed himself to death), and instead of a belt, he had gotten some rope from my dad's junk drawer and had tied the oversized pants to his tiny-in-comparison waist. My grin widened as reality sunk in.

_Spot Conlon… THE Spot Conlon… is staying at MY house! Squee!_

Unable to hold it in any longer, I let out a joyous shout and flung my arms around Spot, locking him in a tight hug. I felt his arms begin to wrap around my tiny form…

"HANDS OFF, I said!"

I rolled my eyes again and pulled away from him, though I could see the satisfied smirk spread across his face out of the corner of my eye.

"Yes, mother, we heard you." I replied with a small sigh. Then I turned to Spot, who was once again staring at the computer.

"Cin youse explain dat… dat… co'puter ta me nows, 'Tina?" he asked, his eyes glued to it intently. I sighed and facepalmed.

_This _was going to be fun.

- - -

**Well, there you have it! Chapter 4 for The Future Is Calling! I hope you liked it! The next chapter will be- *is shot***

**Spot: *hold gun* Do't jus' tell 'em, 'Tina!**

**Christina: Okay, okay, sorry! Geez… so anyways…**

**The next chapter will be out soon… and soon as in, like, tomorrow! Yay! Okay, TTFN-TTYL!**


	5. Getting to Know the World Around You

**Okay, here comes Chapter 5! Wow, this has gone… fast. Already Chapter 5! Maybe I should slow down on uploading? Anyways, here it is! =)**

**Disclaimer of Doom: Uh, yeah. _ I *coughdon'tcough* own Newsies…**

**- - -**

**Chapter 5 – Getting to Know the World around You**

_Christina_

I led Spot over to the computer, unsure on how to present this to him. How do you explain something you've lived your entire life with?

"Well," I began slowly, settling myself into the desk chair and swinging the mouse over to my account's icon, "this is a computer. It's a little hard to explain, so just watch…" I clicked on my name, and then stiffened when I remembered what I had labeled my account as: _Christina Conlon. _I felt my face flush bright red and I swiveled my glance over to Spot, who was standing behind me, smirking at the name.

_Crap, he can read._

"Uh… anyways…" I hurriedly typed in my password and logged on. Spot's smirk fell into a look of surprise. My turn to smirk!

"Why's is me pictcha **(picture)** on dis… dis computah, 'Tina?" he asked, his eyes glued to my desktop, which was a giant picture of him and then 'Brooklyn: Spot Conlon's Territory' with a picture of the Brooklyn Bridge in the background. "An' in colah, too?" he added. I gulped. Okay, how to cover this one up…

_How do I tell him that he's a character from a movie I'm addicted to?_

"Well, long story short… this is the future, suck it up." I sassed Spot! SQUEE! I've always wanted to do that! Okay, no time for rabid fangirl-ness. This was serious! But you wanna know something weird? I can actually hide my emotions really well! But you see, instead of using a cold, stone-like emotionless mask like most people do, I hide my emotions by smiling! Yep, if I want to hide an emotion, I'll laugh and smile. Not sure why, but I just do. It's almost like an involuntary muscle or something.

So anyways, I gave Spot a small smile to soften the edges of my retort and then turned back to the computer, double-clicking on the Internet Explorer icon, the window popping up a moment later.

"Okay, so, let's show you something easy…" I typed in 'Animal Crossing Community' and then hit the enter button. Animal Crossing Community (ACC) appeared almost instantly. I clicked on my Buddie Thread, where a bunch of my online friends were chatting about whatnot. One of the topics was fan fiction, so I leapt in immediately, babbling about all my different fan fics. After a few minutes of silence – save the soft noise of my typing – I felt Spot beginning to get restless, so I said goodbye to my friends and told Spot I was going to YouTube.

"YouTube?" he repeated in confusion. I sighed.

"Here, check this out." I told him, and he leaned in over my shoulder to get a closer look. I played a few songs like 'Gamer Forever' by Nightcore II, 'We're Not Gonna Take This' by Twisted Sister, and 'Hot Air Balloon' by Owl City. After he got over his shock of the strange contraption, he was more than excited about it.

Spot and I tinkered around the computer a little more. I showed him things like Microsoft Word, movies I had made on Windows Movie Maker (WMM), and websites I had made. I even let him type a bit, but that did not turn out too well.

After a while, a little speech bubble popped up from the side of the screen with '5 minutes left' written inside it. I let out a dramatic sigh and logged off, Spot giving me a confused and slightly annoyed look.

"Wat was dat awl 'bout, 'Tina?" he complained. I gave him a light shove, sending him sprawling out onto the couch,

"I have stupid computer time limits, Spot," I explained taking a seat next to him (a respectable distance between us, of course), "so after a certain amount of time, it'll boot me off of the computer." Spot gave a slow nod. Good, he was starting to understand this whole 'technology' concept.

"Anyways-" I began, but then my mom walked into the room, her purse around her shoulder and her bright red coat wrapped tightly around her. She walked over to the door and opened it, beginning to exit the house.

"Hey, Mom!" I called to her. She turned to face me with questioning eyes.

"Where are you going?" I asked her.

"To the store to buy Spot some clothes," she replied, "I don't think that Newsie attire will work in this time period." She began to turn away, but then craned to neck to face us again. "Oh, and Christina?" I cocked my head to one side, blinking at her.

"Hands off," She smiled and shot me a wink. I let out an exasperated sigh and chucked one of the fluffy couch pillows at her. She quickly closed the door with a laugh and the pillow slammed up against the door, sliding harmlessly to the floor. I turned back to Spot, who was staring at me blankly.

"Don't mind us," I giggled, then straitened up, returning to my original subject. "Anyways, I think we should now make plans. If your going to live with us for who knows how long, we need to make some preparations that will last for a while. So first off, where will you sleep?"

After at least half an hour of talking – and very loud debating – Spot and I settled on some main necessities; my family would treat him like a brother/son, and he would eat meals with us, go to school (we could… ahem, improve the truth about his age so that he and I could be in the same grade), and all that good stuff. We also decided that he would sleep on the living room couch; at least until something better could be set up. Personally, I was more than happy when we had everything sorted out. I flopped back onto the couch with a content sigh.

"So… 'Tina?" Spot asked, looking around the room.

"Yeah?" I mumbled in reply.

"Could youse… show me mores about dis place? I do't wanna look like an idiot to uddah people, you knows?"

"Too late for that," I grumbled under my breath, but loud enough so that he could hear I said cheerily, "Sure thing, Spot. Here, lemme show you a TV…" I grabbed his hand and led him downstairs. I let him gape at our brand-new, giant, shiny, flat-screen TV for a bit, and then plopped him down into the reclining chair. I pulled the lever and the seat flew backwards, the footrest popping up in the process. Spot gave a startled yelp before glaring at me icily, but I just laughed. Then I walked over to the TV and turned it on, grabbed the remote and flopped back onto our wrap-around couch. I flipped through the channels until we came to Disney Channel, which was currently airing 'Phineas & Ferb'.

"Oh, goody!" I squealed in delight, settling into my chair. "I love this show."

Spot watched the little, oddly-shaped characters in awe; obviously, he'd never seen anything like it before.

"'T-'Tina…" he stammered, pointing a finger at the screen. "How… how do ya gets da pictcha tah move? An' in colah?"

"Honestly, Spot, I'm not so sure. I'm not a pro at TV mechanics, but lemme tell you this; it's the future, so lots of things are different. And I mean lots. For example, girls now wear pants, and even more than they ever wear a skirt or dress."

Spot stared at me, wide-eyed in disbelief.

"I'm serious!" I said, motioning to my own clothing, "Honestly, look at what I'm wearing!"

Spot narrowed his eyes at my clothes; black sweatpants and a Ni-Hao Kai-Lan t-shirt that hugged my petite form tightly.

After a few moments of staring (dare I say, longer than necessary…?), he silently turned back to the TV show. I smiled, but it soon faded. I knew that this must be hard for Spot, even if he didn't show it. And I was even surer that he missed his Newsies dearly. And why did I feel that I didn't know half of his story? I shook my head slightly. This was all too confusing…

_Don't worry, Spot, _I promised him silently, _I'll help you find your way back to 1899. And until then, I'll make your life in 2010 the best life I can._

- - -

**Don't kill me! *armflail* I know it's short-ish and filler-ish, but I felt that Spot and Christina deserved a little chappie like this. I mean, the getting-to-know-you chapters have to be in there, or else I'm just jumping from one part of the plot to the next! I felt that we needed a transaction chapter before we continue on. I promise, though, Chapter 6 will be more interesting! ;)**

**Oh, and just so y'all know, I'll be on vacation from February 12****th**** to February 14****th****, and we're coming back next Monday, so I won't be able to get any more chapters done until then! So sorry! *apologetic Japanese-style bow* Kumenosai! T_T Anyways, I'll do my best to write drafts for the chapters, but until then, please be patient and loving readers like I know you are! =3 Oh, and review if you have the chance! Even the smallest comment sends me soaring with joy! It also inspires me to crank out chapters faster, so there's another reason! ;3 ANYWAYS, I'll see you guys next Monday or Tuesday with a new chapter, and until then, wish me luck at my little German Village vacation! =)**

**~ Christina & Spot Conlon 3**

**P.S, Spot is, of course, coming with us, so maybe future chapters will be about my adventures at this German Village…? 83**


	6. If Only Racetrack Were Here

**Hiya guys, I'm back from vacation! =D And, as promised, here's Chapter 6! I just wanted to let you know that there are 2 chapters including this one before we get to the German Village vacation chapters. So, that's all I really have to say! Okay, go and enjoy that Chapter 6! =3**

**Disclaimer: OMGosh, I totally want Disney to re-release Newsies into theaters 2012 for its 20****th**** Anniversary! 8D**

**Spot: Dat's nawt really a disclaimah, ya know.**

**Me: Shaddup shaddup shaddup! T__T**

**Spot: -__-;**

**(Original Chapter Title: You Wouldn't Be Complaining if Racetrack Were Here) It didn't fit… D=**

**- - -**

**Chapter 6 – If Only Racetrack Were Here...**

_Christina_

After watching two episodes of Phineas & Ferb, I turned on the Wii and showed Spot Super Smash Bros Brawl (SSBB). He, like most boys, instantly became addicted, and refused to play any video game besides that. So, I kicked his butt for the first fifteen minutes or so as Zelda, but soon he got the hang of the game and began whooping me with Ike.

Eventually, I was able to 'drop the game into a bottomless pit' while Spot took a bathroom break (it took him extra long because he had a little too much fun flushing the toilet repeatedly), and I swapped it out with Animal Crossing: City Folk. However, Spot began to fall asleep watching me play, so I simply turned off the Wii and drug him upstairs around five thirty PM. My mom still hadn't returned; my guess was that she had bought Spot's clothes and then went grocery shopping.

"So, wat's awre we'se gunna do next, 'Tina?" he asked me as I picked up the phone.

"I'm calling my BFFE Emilee. I SO want her to see you!" I replied excitedly, and after dialing the number waited for someone to pick up.

"BFFE?" Spot repeated in confusion.

"Best Friend For Eternity," I explained hurriedly, but then someone picked up on the other end so I fell silent.

"Milner residence this is Katie," said Emilee's little sister, Katie, formally.

"Hi Katie," I replied cheerily, "this is Christina; can Emilee talk?"

"Sure," she replied.

"Thanks."

"Yep…"

I smiled at Spot, who stared at the phone in awe. This was always how the conversation between me and Katie went; Short and sweet. Emilee and I, on the other hand, could talk until the phone's battery died. Either that, or until it was time for one of us to do the dreaded homework.

"Hello?" Emilee's voice asked in monotone. _Somebody's on the computer…_

"Hi Emilee, this is Christina," my voice was now choked with excitement; I was hardly able to contain my joy. Spot was at _my _house, squee! I let out a giggle-snort and did a little jig right then and there.

"Hi Christina…" Emilee's voice sounded wary. "Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm okay!" I squealed in delight, letting out a long string of tee-hee's, "I just need you to come over NOW! No excuses!"

"But, I'm right in the middle of-"

"I don't care! This is probably – scratch that last word – more important than ANYTHING!"

"Anything?" I could practically hear Emilee quirk an eyebrow; we were like sisters, I knew her like the back of my hand.

"Yes, anything!" I said in a high-pitched tone. "Just get over here, NOW!"

"Okay, I'll be over in a sec." She told me with a sigh.

"Okay, bye-bye!" I squeaked.

"Bye."

I hung up the phone, returning it to its cradle, and then turned to Spot.

"My friend Emilee is coming over," I told him matter-of-factly as I swept a gaze over him and his oversized clothes, "and the clothes you are in won't work."

As though on cue, my mom burst in through the garage door (the door that led from our kitchen out into the garage), overstuffed plastic bags dangling from her arms.

"I'm back, kids!" she called out, smiling. She bustled past us, plopped her load down onto the kitchen table, and then pulled some clothes out of one of the bags.

"Here are Spot's clothes," she told us, laying the articles across the table. I looked them over; three pairs of jeans, a brown leather belt, a white t-shirt, a black t-shirt, a blue t-shirt, a black sweatshirt that had a picture of a surfer on the front in white, and a pair of tennis shoes. I nodded in satisfaction.

"These are nice, Mom," I complimented. She beamed and then turned away, returning to the car.

"Help me unload the trunk while Spot changes, Christina." She said, and I obeyed.

Not too soon after everything had been unpacked and put into its proper place, I saw Emilee's mom's van pull up into the driveway. I told Spot – who was now dressed in the blue t-shirt, jeans, and his red suspenders – to go and hide in the hallway, and then let Emilee into the house.

"Alright Christina," she said as soon as I closed the door behind her, "what did you want me to see?"

I grinned toothily. "You won't believe it until you see it, so…" I motioned for Spot to come out. He stepped into the living room, his trademark smirk spread across his face. I turned to Emilee.

"Ta-da!" I declared, holding out my hands to frame Spot. "Spot Conlon, flesh and blood!"

My best friend's mouth fell open and her eyes widened in surprise. After about a minute of gaping, she finally was able to speak.

"Christina, this is… how… what the heck…?" she sputtered.

"I found him in the snow outside my house this afternoon after school," I explained, patting the newsboy from the past. A few weeks ago, I had basically forced Emilee to watch Newsies with me at a sleepover, and she had fallen in love with it too, though she's not as big a fan as I am.

"Christina, can I talk to you in private for a sec?" she asked, and swept a hard stare over Spot before pulling me by the arm into the kitchen.

"What is this all about?" she hissed, pointing her finger in the direction of the living room.

"I don't know, really," I replied honestly, "I found him in the snow, like I said. I saved him from dying; I have no idea how he got here in the first place. My parents said he can stay with us, and that's pretty much it."

Emilee sighed. "Okay then, it's just… how with the strike be affected by this? If he's gone, things might not go as they should! The strike hasn't already happened, has it?" she added, looking at me in a queer way.

I shook my head. "No, I don't think so. He probably would've mentioned it if it had. And don't worry; I'm trying to find a way to get him back. He hasn't even been here for a whole day yet, anyways."

Emilee nodded. "I just think the whole thing is weird, to be completely honest. But whatever."

I giggled, slapping her lightly in the arm. "Oh, honestly, you wouldn't be complaining if Racetrack were here."

A blush crept over her face, but she just rolled her eyes.

"Whatever you say, Christina… whatever you say."

**- - -**

**Enter, Emilee: Christina's BFFE and Racetrack's undercover fangirl! =D I'm not sure how much Emilee will actually appear in this fan fic… probably just in the school scenes. But don't worry, Emilee is a kool character with a lot of potential in this series, so even if she doesn't appear too much in this story, maybe in the sequel…? And yes, there will be a sequel! I already have an ending for this planned out, and the way it's going to end, there's just GOTTA be a sequel! But, before my big fat mouth gives away any more information, TTFN-TTYL! =3**

**~ Christina 'Amaryllis' Conlon**

**P.S, Oh, and just so you know, Emilee is her real name, but Milner is NOT her real last name! I changed it for Internet safety reasons. Emilee is a real person in real life, and this is her real personality, and she really does have a little sister named Katie! Like I said, almost everything in this story really happened, as Christina is me and all that good junk. But I ramble! Ta-ta!**


	7. This is The Future

**Okay, who's horrible for not updating? MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! ^__^; I'm so so so so so so so so so so sorry for not updating sooner, but life has been rather… hectic, per se. Anyways, here is Chapter 7!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own *CRASH***

**- - -**

**Chapter 7 – This is The Future**

_Spot_

A muffled call sounded from the hallway, and I spun around to see Christina stumbling into the living room. Well, all I could see was her legs, for the top half of her was hidden behind a giant pile of thick blankets, and a pillow was teetering dangerously at the top of the mound.

"Heya, Spot!" she called, her voice struggling to reach me from behind the blankets. "I got you some stuff for your bed and- OW!" she was promptly cut off as she rammed into the corner of the hallway wall, and with a little squeal of surprise bounced backwards. I darted forward and grabbed the pile of blankets (and a pillow) from her arms, and she fell with a _thump _to the ground. She blinked, looking around dazedly, and then turned her gaze to me. I stared back, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, she cracked a wide grin, and shot her hand up into the air, making a weird symbol with her first two fingers.

"I'm okay!" she declared with a giggled, and then leapt to her feet, taking the blankets and pillow back from me, tossing them a moment later onto the couch.

"Alright Spot," she said, walking over to the large, beige-colored chair in one corner of the living room and taking a seat, "pick any of those blankets you want… and as many as you want. I don't care. That's the only pillow we have, though, sorry."

I just nodded mutely. All of those blankets were thicker than the one I had back in Brooklyn, and I could have as many as I wanted. I ended up picking a fuzzy blue one, and then another with colorful polka-dots and a clown on it. Christina helped me spread them out, and she finished it off by patting the pillow into place at one end of the couch.

"Okay, Spot, there ya go." She smiled up at me. I gave a small, tired smirk in return, sweeping my eyes over her clothes. She now wore a thigh-long, pale yellow t-shirt with a little symbol and 'Connections Academy' on the front and blue leopard-print pants that cut off just above her ankles.

_Yep, things are definitely different in the future._

"Spot?"

"Hm, wat, yeah?" I stuttered as she pulled me from my daze. _Don't get the wrong idea, ya little-_

"I'm going to bed now, okay?" she said, tossing me an over-sized white t-shirt. I caught it with one hand, glancing at her in confusion.

"Your pajamas, hot shot." She slapped me lightly in the arm. I opened my mouth to return to her a stinging retort, but before I had the chance she spun around on her heel and flounced back down the hallway. I shook my head, swiftly changing from my weird, 'modern' clothes and into the long shirt. It went to just above my knees, but I had my long underwear on so it didn't matter. Besides, it's not like I was desperate to cover up my body. I smirked at the thought and climbed into my makeshift bed, the covers laying over my chest and my arms folded behind my head as I stared up at the dark ceiling. Suddenly, it was quiet.

Very quiet.

And for I, Spot Conlon, quiet times are thinking times. And you want to know what I thought about? I thought about Luciel. I thought about my supposed death. And I thought about Christina.

Everything had happened so fast today. First, I was just innocently walking along one evening in July. Next thing I know, Luciel is dead, and so am I. Then I wake up, and I'm alive. In someone's house. A house in the future. Then, suddenly, I'm staying with a girl and her family. A girl just a little younger than me.

_But not that ages matter, _I told myself quickly. _Nobody could ever replace Luciel… Nobody._

I sighed aloud. I couldn't believe that Luciel was dead… I just couldn't. I loved her, or at least something very close to it. How could I possibly live with another girl?

_It doesn't matter, because nothing is going to happen between me and Christina. _I thought firmly. I sighed again. She was funny, nice, and sweet, but not nearly as gentle and kind-hearted as Luciel. Plus, she seemed so smart… and not just because she got a proper education. But it was more like… she could understand me; like she was able and willing to help in any way. Another nice thing was that she didn't fawn over me like most girls did. I could never truly love a girl who was clingy.

_But you're NOT going to fall in love with her! You have Luciel, and that's enough. Besides, _I added silently, _she's obsessed with a guy named 'Gabriel Damon'. How could she possibly divide her feelings?_

I quickly diverted my thoughts from the subject by feeling the space between my eyes where the drunk had stabbed me. There was no wound. It was like it never happened. Then a felt it.

A scar.

I felt faint, like it was hardly there. But it was; I knew it was.

_This is the future… and I'm alive. But I've got to get home. Back Brooklyn… back to my Newsies… Back to Luciel._

I sighed for the last time that night and rolled over, desperate to get some quality sleep. My gut told me I'd need it tomorrow…

**- - -**

**I know, I know, it's short. But before you form an angry mob and run me down with pitch forks and rolling pins, let me tell you that my inspiration has returned from a prolonged vacation, so expect a new chapter soon! Only 1 more chappie before we get into the exciting German Vacation segment! =D**

**Spot: Okay, now ya can run 'er down.**

**Me: No, wait! You shouldn't be mobbing me, you should be mobbing him! *points at Spot dramatically***

**Spot: Hey, don't bring me into this!**

**Me: Oh, you brought yourself into it!**

**R&R, please! Thankies! 83**

**Lotsa Love,**

**Christina 'Amaryllis' Conlon =3**

**P.S, This chapter is based on the song 'This is The Future' by Owl City! I thought this song fit this chapter perfectly, and maybe even the whole story itself! Listen to the song, it's pretty good! =)**


	8. The First Official Day

**Hi y'all! I'm back! ^__^ *is pelted with tomatoes***

…

**Right, okay then. I'm listening to 'As a Blonde' by Selena Gomez, but that has nothing to do with this story so… um… okay! *claps hands together* Let's get started with this chapter! Hopefully, once school finally ends (two more weeks! SQUEE!), I'll start updating more often. Until then, enjoy Chapter 5! =D**

**P.S, Oh, and THANK YOU SO MUCH ****Abetterina**** for that insightful review! If you could continue to do that every now and then, that'd be SO AWESOME! A true writer will do whatever they can to make their story better, so I'll do my best to improve in the ways you suggested and in others as well! Just so you know this is kinda like the events that happened before the MAIN story in this series, which I will be writing after this one. So, if there's not as much action, adventure, plot thickening etc. as you would like, it's because I'm just setting the scene for the next story. If that just made any sense at all… ^__^; Anyways, thank you a bunch and I'll try and create some more plot for this story! Thanks again! 3**

**Disclaimer: I don't own things from Disney.**

**Chapter 8 – The First Official Day**

_Christina_

It started as a light, quiet buzzing in my ear. Then, it slowly evolved into a bothersome ringing. I rolled over, wrapped up like a caterpillar in my blue-and-red comforter, and glared through squinted eyes at my alarm clock, which sat across the room beside the rat cage. The bright red, digital numbers were blatantly declaring that it was six thirty AM, and the annoying cathedral bells which I had set as my alarm were growing louder and louder by the second. I sighed and blinked the sleep out of my eyes. The alarm grew louder yet again, and a panic-like adrenaline began to course through my veins. For whatever reason, I got that feeling whenever I heard my alarm clock go off in the morning.

I leapt out of bed and scrambled across the floor in a half-asleep daze, slamming my palm against the snooze button and then flicking the on/off button to 'off'. I glanced around the room. The rats were pressing their noses eagerly against the cage wall, obviously hoping to get out and play in their wheel or something. But I merely spun around and waddled back to my bed, flopping down on it and re-wrapping myself in my thick blanket. I snuggled deep into it to avoid the February chill and slowly drifted back to sleep.

I smacked my lips, forcing my eyes open to check the clock.

Seven fifteen.

_Crap. Time to get up. _I rose into a sitting position, still layered in comforter, and slowly slunk out of bed. I tossed the thick blanket back onto the bed in a heap, and trudged out of the bedroom and into the hallway. I peeked over at Spot's 'bed', and saw him lying there, staring up at the ceiling, his arms crossed behind his head and one knee bent.

"Good morning, Spot." I mumbled. His gaze lingered on the ceiling for a moment longer, and then turned to me.

"Oh, mornin' 'Tina," he returned in monotone.

"Are you… like, hungry or something?" I asked. He paused, then nodded.

"Okay then. Follow me."

He hopped out of the bed and followed behind me as I led him into the kitchen. I wrenched open the fridge door and stood to one side as to avoid the cold blast of air that waited from inside.

"What would you like?" I asked, following it up with a long, drawn-out yawn. Spot looked over the food blankly, and then turned to me.

"Any of it?" He asked. I nodded.

"Don't take too long – we're wasting electricity." Not that he would understand what that meant, but oh well. He eventually pulled out our entire package of baby carrots and some string cheese. He took his 'breakfast' and trotted over to the table, taking a seat and beginning to ravenously chow down. I closed the fridge and plucked a pack of Mini Muffins from the cabinet, and joined Spot at the table. We ate our food in silence. Not an awkward silence, really, just… silence. I looked over at him, carefully observing his features. He was cute, obviously. But… I felt a tingling crawl around in my chest, tugging at my heart slightly. This was different than just plain ol' fangirl-dom. It was something like… feelings? An emotion, something that came from the heart, something sort of like… love. Of course, I couldn't possibly love him; I'd only known him for a day! But, it _was _something like a small crush, a 'like-like'. I watched him gnaw on his carrot in determination, oblivious to me watching him. I shook my head slightly and returned to eating.

Once we were both finished, I stood and stretched.

"Well, Spot, we better get ready."

"For what?" He asked, looking up at me warily. I smiled down at him in return.

"Ever heard of school?"

"I'm so gonna be late!" I wailed, flailing my arms helplessly as I wove my way expertly through the crowded hallways of Mayville Middle School (MMS). Spot observed my breakdown in a wary silence, unsure of what to say. I came to a screeching stop at my bright red locker and quickly loaded my combination into the lock. It swung open easily. I quickly gathered my things and stuffed my backpack in, and then slammed it shut again. Textbooks, assignment notebook, and pencil box clutched tightly to my chest, I hurried back down the hall and swung into room 229, plopping down in my usual desk in front of Haylee Lynn, taking a deep breath as the bell rang.

"I made it in the – ta-da! – nick of time," I breathed out, followed by a shaky laugh. Spot took a seat beside me quietly, looking around the room.

"It's so big, 'Tina." He stated.

_Thank you, captain obvious. _"Yeah," I nodded, following his gaze about the classroom. "I guess it's different than what you're used to back in Brooklyn, huh?"

"Christina, who's this?" a new voice chirped excitedly. I twisted around to face Haylee Lynn, who was looking at Spot curiously.

"Oh, hi Haylee," I smiled. "This is- oh, um…" I glanced over at Spot, with a _'Help me you fool!' _look in my eyes.

"I'se is Patrick Conlon," he told Haylee Lynn, and then mouthed to me, _me real name. _I gave him a small nod to show that I understood him and then turned my attention back to Haylee Lynn.

"Neat!" she said excitedly, smiling widely. "Nice to meet you. I'm Haylee Lynn Guerren, and I really love Anime and Manga! I also like art and cosplaying, and I really wanna go to the Art Institute of Chicago for college!" She stuck out her hand, and Spot gave it a small shake. Just then, Mr. Lindie entered the room.

"Good morning, class-" he cut off when his eyes met Spot's stormy blue eyes.

"Who's… this?" he asked. I jerked forward in my seat, instantly leaping in to the rescue.

"Oh, that's Spo-Patrick Conlon, the new exchange student from… Brooklyn." What? It was short notice. I had to think fast, and I'm not very good at that. All eyes were now on me, and I felt my cheeks redden. Mr. Lindie continuously switched his gaze from between me and Spot.

"Really? Mrs. Wheel didn't notify me about this new student."

"It's kinda sudden," I explained, "He's staying with my family while he's here in Mayville, and he has all his classes with me. I think my Mom called the office yesterday, so they're setting everything up."

Mr. Lindie paused, processing this new information, and then nodded slightly.

"Brooklyn, did you say? Well, nice to meet you, Patrick. Welcome to first hour English."

I led Spot through the first four hours of school – he got to get lectured for his form of talking in English, impress the Social Studies teacher, Mrs. Friday, with his knowledge of the history of New York, meet the kind-hearted, social Science teacher Mrs. Whitmen, and watch me hide my face from Mrs. McArnel in Math. Soon enough it was lunch, and that meant time to introduce him to my friends.

"I think you'll like them, Spot," I said with a smile, carefully organizing my locker despite the stampede of hungry children thundering past us. I closed my locker door and allowed myself to get caught up in the flow, carried effortlessly down the stairs and into the lunch line. Suddenly, something warm and rough grabbed my tiny, pale hand. I spun around, eyes wide and heart pounding to face Spot, who was smirking.

"Do't get too excited, 'Tina," he laughed, arrogance dancing about in his eyes, "I jus' do't wanna get lost."

I set my jaw, trying to stop the blush from invading my face.

"Well, if that's how you're going to be about it, you can just let yourself get lost!" I snarled, half-heartedly attempting to shake him off. He just tightened his grip in determination. I sighed loudly, rolling my eyes and turning my head away, secretly enjoying every moment of this. We were now down the steps, flanked by the pale green Eighth grade lockers. First floor was Eighth grade, second floor was Seventh grade, and third floor was Sixth grade. As we neared the door that led to the lunch room, I scanned the crowd of heads for a certain, tall, dark, black-haired young man. I spied him at his locker, and set an impish grin on my face. I hurried forward, dragging Spot along with me, and extended my index finger from my free hand. I shoved it forward, roughly poking him. He spun around, his eyes sparkling with laughter, and attempted to jab me in the stomach with a giant, oversized pink pen. His eyes met Spot's, and he froze. I turned away and quickly continued on.

"Who was dat, 'Tina?" Spot asked, his voice sounding slightly cold.

"No one," I said shortly.

"Tell me," he said in an in-charge voice. I sighed.

"Later, okay?" I said. He glared, but nodded.

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes!"

"No!"

"YES!"

"NO!"

Emilee and I slowly inched away from the quarreling duo, Spot following us. My other two friends, Emily and Erin, were at it again; fighting about something random for no apparent reason. Of course, it was all just for fun, but Emilee and I found it a bit annoying at times.

"I swear," Emilee grumbled under her breath. "This one merely started from one of them saying 'yes' during an awkward silence."

"Tell me about it," I agreed, rolling my eyes.

"So, are you going to tell them?" She asked in a lower, more secretive voice. I glanced over at Spot, who was listening to us in an observing-like silence.

"No," I replied, "at least, not yet. Right now, I think it's best if they just know him as Patrick, you know?"

Emilee nodded. "I get what you mean. I'm gonna go break the two lovebirds up, okay?" I laughed.

"Okay, sounds good. Spot and I'll just hang around for a bit."

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Two words, Spot: I-Hate-P.E."

"Dat's three, 'Tina… Technically fouah."

"I don't care none." I groaned, trudging along through the gym room. I stepped into the girl's gym locker, and then suddenly remembered that a certain someone was following me. I spun around, waving my arms in front of me frantically.

"Woah, woah, woah!" I shouted, shoving him backwards. Spot swore loudly as he stumbled back, glaring at me.

"Watch your mouth, boy, and get into your own gender's locker room!" I yowled, pointing a stiff finger at the boy's locker room door.

Spot rolled his eyes, smirking.

"Ya know ya want me tah follow ya, toots." He drawled, stretching his arms above his head lazily.

"Spot – I mean, Patrick, shut your mouth and keep your dirty mind to yourself. I don't-" I was cut off by someone clearing their throat. Spot and I looked in unison downwards, and saw a short boy, at least a foot shorter than me, looking up at Spot. Cute little freckles were sprinkled across his face, and his hair was a fiery brown. I was surprised he was even in the same grade as me.

"You're name's Patrick?" he asked Spot, looking up at him with sparkly hazel eyes. Spot nodded mutely.

"Cool, so is mine!" he said excitedly. "Everyone calls me PJ, though. Are you new here?"

"Yeah, he is," I told PJ. I remembered him now – a little spitfire smart-alleck, he was. He and Spot would get along perfectly.

"Okay then," PJ said, turning to Spot. "I can show you around if you like – at least for Gym. How about it?"

"Yeah, shore." Spot mumbled, glancing at me. I gave him a weak smile and spun around, hurrying into the locker room. I got my clothes out of my locker and began to dress into my gym uniform. I took my place in line once finished and leaned against the end of one row of lockers, sighing as my eyes began to water up in hurt.

_Why do Spot and I always fight? Neither of us are that mean or cruel, and yet we totally get up in each other's grill over the stupidest things. Just now, I… I blew up at him just because he almost followed me into the girl's locker room, and then we got into a fight. I do that to Jared all the time, and he doesn't spaz out. At least he met PJ, but still…I just wish things could go a little more smoothly, especially since we're both still making our first impressions on each other. I-_

"Alright girls," Mrs. Connors shouted, interrupting my thoughts, "let's do roll call and then get on out there!" I looked up, blinking the tears from my eyes as my gym buddies, Jenny F., Jenny T., Becca, Kira, and Erinn (not the same Erin from lunch/recess) crowded around me.

"Are you okay, Christina?" Jenny F. whispered worriedly. I smiled weakly and nodded.

"Nothing important, Jenny; just me overreacting again."

Spot and I stood at the edge of the school, waiting for my mom to come and pick us up. I leaned up against the wire fence, scanning the road for the familiar silver car. I glanced over at Spot, who was chatting with a couple of his new friends, PJ and Matt, a few feet away. His eyes shifted to meet mine, and I quickly looked away. I had already gotten over our little spat, but he clearly hadn't. I knew that I would have to be the one to fix things, and I'm horrible at that kind of stuff. Plus, I couldn't do it just then – all those other guys there! It would seem like the whole thing was _my _fault, even though I guess it sort of was. I shouldn't have been so hostile about the incident. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an all-too-familiar redhead flouncing down the sidewalk, headed straight towards me.

_Oh great. What does Megan Slope want now? _Megan and I weren't really on the best of terms, for a reason completely unknown to me. It might be because I accidentally took her seat in the computer lab, or maybe because I stepped on her homework by accident and got it all muddy, but she was always cold and cruel towards me. I closed my eyes and prayed for strength, but when I opened them Megan had breezed right past me and stood, staring up at Spot with wide, shiny green eyes.

"Hey, Patrick?" she asked in a small voice, obviously forced. Spot glanced at PJ and Matt, who grinned and gave him a 'thumbs up'. He turned back to Megan.

"Yeah?" he replied, smirking.

_Arrogant, cocky little…_

"We have English together, so I was wondering what the homework assignment was," she said sweetly.

"There isn't one," I called from my position against the fence. She shot me a heated glare over her shoulder and then turned back to Spot.

"While I'm here," she continued, "I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me."

_That was… blunt._

I felt my heart sink into the deepest, darkest depths of my stomach. It was only a small crush I had, but still; when I fall for someone, I fall hard. And that usually means the biggest heartbreak at the end. I mean, I'm not completely unpopular with boys, but… it's never the one I _want_ to ask me out. I risked a glance at Spot, who was staring at her, caught completely off guard, but not all that surprised.

"I-" he began, but at that moment I saw my mom's car rolling over the horizon line. I darted forward, grabbing his upper arm and dragging him away from Megan.

"There's my mom, Spot, we gotta go! See you tomorrow, Megan!" I felt Megan's glare boring holes in the back of my head, but at that point I didn't really care. I just wanted to get Spot away from her.

"Hi Mom!" I said cheerily as I plopped myself down in the car. I glanced at Spot, who was staring straight ahead blankly. Was a girl asking him out really that surprising?

"The kids are always extremely popular, Spot," I told him quietly. "It'll all die down by the end of the week."

"Huh?" He asked, his eyes still clouded and unfocused. But they quickly cleared and he nodded vigorously. "Uh, yeah, by da end o' da week."

I frowned slightly. Why was he so distant after being asked out? It's not like he was seeing anyone else.

_I've only figured out half of this stupid puzzle, _I thought wearily. _And unfortunately, I think I lost some of the pieces._

**And there you have it! Hope this made up for lost time. I'll get another one out soon! =) Meanwhile, why not go read my other story, Bobbi with an I? =3 It's about Newsies… and Spot! It actually ties in with this story, but you'll figure that out… later. And some of you may be wondering 'who's Jared?' from a little comment I made in my mind during the gym scene. Well, that will all be explained later as well! So, TTFN-TTYL!**

**~ Christina 'Amaryllis' Conlon 3**


	9. The German Village Part I

**Next chapter, yay! Wow, already Chapter 9, too! This story is flying… very, very slow flying, but flying nonetheless.**

**THANK YOU, once again, ****Abetterina****, for giving me such wonderful reviews and CC! Since I'm not going to explain it much in the chapter (other things I need to do =3), I'm going to just let you know right here that one of Christina's **_**many**_** character flaws (I just burned myself there XD) is overreacting. I do it all the time, nearly every day, so… yeah. =P I'll try and keep things realistic, though, so thanks for pointing that out! =)**

**Okay, so without further ado, here is Chapter 9!**

**P.S, oh, and just so you all know, Christina's family's last name is Turtle! It's silly, I know. =P**

**Chapter 9 – The German Village Part I**

_Spot_

"Spot, why haven't you started packing yet? We're leaving in 5 minutes!" Christina blazed through the living room, grabbing her Tamagotchi from the coffee table and stuffing them into her backpack, a piece of French toast lathered in peanut butter dangling from her mouth. I sighed aloud at the sight.

"Woke up late again?" I teased. Christina took one hand and shoved the rest of the toast into her mouth. Once she was finished, she laughed.

"Yep," she giggled. "I couldn't sleep. I'm just so excited about the trip! Just think, Spot… a German Village in Minnesota! We'll get to speak German for a whole weekend! And we don't have go to school today! Aren't my parents great?"

"Shore, shore," I waved my hand at her. Christina froze, looking at me with a serious, almost upset, face.

"Hey, Spot?" she asked quietly. "Are you still mad about what happened Monday?"

"What happened Monday?" I asked in confusion. It was the Friday of the same week, and it mustn't have been that important if I had forgotten it already. But… if it was important to Christina, then maybe it did mean something.

"Oh, uh… I yelled at you," she said hesitantly. I paused for a moment, trying to remember exactly what had happened Monday.

_Oh, yeah, that. _Was she seriously still thinking about it? I looked over at her. She looked nervous. Very, very nervous.

"I take it youse ain't so good at dis kinda stuff?" I commented.

"Oh, uh… no, not really," she stuttered. I smirked.

"Lucky foah youse, I don't really worry 'bout dat kinda stuffs too much. So don't loose any sleep ovah it, okay?"

Christina nodded, and smiled. "Well, I'm glad that we're friends again. We are friends, right?"

"I do't see why not," I replied. _Friends…_

Christina let out a shaky laugh. "Oh, good. I just wanted to make sure."

I tore my gaze from her and stared down at my own backpack, which had nothing but my pillow and a book on tape inside.

"What else should I pack, 'Tina?" I asked, glancing back over at her and subtly changing the subject. Christina glanced down at my pack and shrugged.

"I dunno. Just shove some of your clothes in there and chuck it in the trunk. We're only staying for two and a half days."

"I could say the same for you, honey," her mom commented as she passed the living room on her way to the car. "You've taken half the clothes from your room and stowed them away! You're asking as though we're moving."

"Be prepared, Mom!" Christina shouted after her as the busy woman continued along the hallway. "Be prepared!"

"Highway 69 dear," Mrs. Turtle insisted, pointing to the map with one finger so that her husband could see.

"You're holding the map upside-down, Helen!" Mr. Turtle countered.

"I am not," she protested. "Just take Highway 69 and turn left at the end of the Beltline."

I looked over at Christina, drowning out the quarreling couple. She was staring out the window at the swiftly passing countryside, her eyes looking into something I could not see, deep in thought. I turned to look at Christina's little sister, Ruth Joy (whom most called 'Ruthie'), who was mashing the buttons on her DS in solid determination. In the front were Mr. and Mrs. Turtle, Mr. Turtle at the wheel and his wife manning the map. And here I sat, in the middle seat of the back row, squished between two sisters and several over-stuffed backpacks.

Lucky me.

"Hey Mom?" Christina said suddenly, leaning forward to rest her chin on the back of her mother's seat.

"Yes, dear?" Mrs. Turtle mumbled her reply, her eyes never wandering from the confusing-looking map.

"Is the Eiffel Tower one of the Seven Wonders of the World?" the young brunette asked curiously. Her mother looked up, quirking an eyebrow at her daughter. Christina pulled away and threw her hands up in defense. "Random question, I know." She told her mother. Mrs. Turtle sighed and returned to the map.

"I'm not sure if it is," she admitted.

"I don't think so," Mr. Turtle added, throwing in his two cents worth.

"WAIT!" Christina yowled, leaping up so that she was now sitting up much straighter. Everyone – including me – turned to look at her. Thankfully, Mr. Turtle quickly turned back to the road, but kept one ear angled slightly towards where his daughter was seated.

"Okay," Christina said, her gaze flitting from one person to the next. "I have just thought of something so brilliant…"

"What is it?" Ruth Joy asked curiously, ignoring the 'game over' music that was playing from her DS. Christina cracked a huge grin.

"Gabriel Damon is one of the Seven Wonders of the World!" she squealed happily, clapping her hands together like a child. Everyone chuckled or groaned. Except for me, clueless Spot Conlon.

"Okay, youse all has got me," I said, starting to get slightly aggravated. I did _not _like not knowing things. "Who is dis oh-so-great 'Gabriel Damon'?"

Everyone's eyes were now on me, looking completely shocked. But just as soon as the silence had started, it was promptly cut off as everyone began to roll into a series of hysterical laughter.

"Oh, Spot honey," Mrs. Turtle began between giggles, "he's y-"

"Don't tell him, Mom!" Christina cut her off, wiping away a tear. "Oh gosh, Spot, if only you knew…"

"That was so hilarious!" Ruth Joy laughed loudly, slapping her knee for emphasis. Christina sighed and shook her head, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"Ruthie, nobody's laughing anymore."

About an hour later, the sun had set, and I was still thinking about Gabriel Damon, whoever he was, even though everyone else had long since moved on.

_What's so great about dis guy? _I thought angrily. _What does 'Tina sees in him dat's so wondahful? What could possibly-_

I suddenly felt a small thump against my left shoulder. I turned to look at it, and my heart began to race. Christina's head had landed like a dead weight on my shoulder, her eyes gently closed and her lips parted less than a centimeter. Ruth Joy giggled from my other side.

"So cute!" she squealed in excitement. I decided to spare her from my death-glare, since she was just a little girl. And I didn't mind all that much…

"Mistah Turtle," I stage-whispered. "What should I do?"

"Just let her sleep, Spot," he replied. "Be careful with her, okay?"

What the heck am I supposed to say to that?

I sighed, gently brushing a stray piece of hair out of Christina's face. She looked so peaceful…

"Hey, look!" Ruth Joy yelled in excitement, pressing her face against her car door's window. We're here, we're here!"

I looked out as well, and was marveled by the unique buildings, all the snow, the cobblestone pathways…

'_Tina was right, _I thought, a small smirk twitching at my lips. _We're shore tah have fun 'ere._

It was just then that I realized I hadn't thought about Luciel for an entire week.

**And, scene! *curtains close***

**Next chapter will be aaaallll about the two days at the German Village! What a great place for relationship-building! ;D**

**Please Review!**

**~ Christina 'Amaryllis' Conlon**


	10. The German Village Part II

**IMPORTAINT! ****(sort of…) – I'm sorry if this chapter isn't very good. I really don't feel like even writing at the moment, but I had already started the chapter yesterday so I thought 'why not?'. The reason; I've just had my heart broken. By a boy… sort of. A boy dog, that is. To make a long story short, I really want a dog, and I met this sweet, chubby old Coonhound at my local shelter and it was love at first sight. I was walking him every week and he really loved me, too. Then, I went today, asked to walk Moose, and… he had been adopted. I'm sure he's very happy, and I'm glad for him, but I'm still trying to find pieces of my heart scattered about.**

**But anyways…**

**Here you are!**

**ALSO IMPORTAINT!**** Since all other symbols seem to disappear whenever I upload the chapter, from now on, three ! will be the separation marker, okay? Okay! Now, here is Chapter 10!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Not Newsies, not Moose, not nothing. Obviously, I don't own a grammar instruction booklet, either. =P**

**!**

**Chapter 10 – The German Village Part II**

_Christina_

"Just look at it," I breathed, turning the corner into our family's bunk room. It was really nice – four sets of bunk beds, some cubbies to store our coats, a table, fluffy carpet… it was great. There were two sets of bunks together, and then a wall separating them from the other two bunks. Choosing one close to the door, I raced over, swinging myself onto one of the top bunks and bouncing around giddily.

"I call the other top bunk!" Ruthie yowled, chucking her suitcase to the side and hopping up onto the bed opposite of me.

"Spot, you can sleep on the one underneath mine if you want," I offered, somewhat shyly. Spot smirked, but didn't say anything. Smart boy.

"Unpack your things, kids," my mom called. "Dad and I will take these other bunks on the far side of the room. Hurry now, we need to be at the _Waldsee Café_ in just a few minutes." **(AN: Just so you know, a W in the German language is pronounced like a V. So it'd be the Vald-sey Café, or Mess Hall)**

So Ruthie, Spot, and I all hurriedly chose dressers to store our clothes in. Once we were done, we all began to make our way out of the bunk house and into the cold, snowy February night. Suddenly, soft music began to sound from my mom's purse. She dug around for a moment and eventually extracted her cell phone and flipping it open, answered it with a confused "Hello?"

There was a slight pause, as we all stopped walking to watch my mother intently, and she soon handed it off to me, saying simply, "It's Emilee."

I silently took the phone and pressed it to my ear. "Hey, Emilee."

"Hello!" Emilee sung with her usual bouncy voice. I waved my family away, Spot casting me an extra glance before following them to the _Waldsee Café_. I began to pace back and forth, a strange habit I have when talking on the phone.

"Sorry for bothering you," Emilee began.

"It's fine," I assured her.

"Well, anyways, I found something on this one website that might interest you." Those words alone caused my ears to perk.

"Oooh, is it good news?" I chirped excitedly.

"Uh, soooort oooof," Emilee drug out her words, and I could picture her eyes glancing away to the side.

"Well, tell me, tell me!" I pressed. Emilee let out a small laugh.

"Okay, well, here it is… well, I don't have the article right in front of me, but long story short, in order for Spot to return to the past, movie, whatever he's from…"

My heart leapt up in excitement…

"Is for him to die again."

And fell back into the deepest pit of my stomach.

There was a long, long, stretching moment of silence. My tongue refused to work properly. Finally, I was able to choke out one simple word.

"Oh."

"Yeah, so that's it…" Emilee mumbled, obviously as upset as I was. She loved Newsies too, of course, and had really enjoyed the week that Spot had been with us at school.

"I… I better go." I was finally able stammer into the phone. "Thanks for the information, Emilee. I'll talk to you later."

"Okay, bye." Emilee replied quietly.

"Bye." I snapped the phone shut. And there I stood for a good full minute, watching my breath materialize before my eyes and the slowly fade back into the chilling night air. That's when I made one of the most selfish decisions possible.

_I'm not going to tell Spot._

I just couldn't; he was growing on me. My affections for him grew with every passing day. I would do everything in my power to keep him here, in to 2010, with me. He was _my_ Spot Conlon; nobody else's.

With this plan in my mind, I spun on my heel and picked my way around the ice patches and into the _Waldsee Café_. I silently made my way to the sturdy, polished wooden table at which my family sat. I took a seat at the end, next to Spot. He glanced over and smiled down at me. My eyes widened.

_Smiled._

_No way._

_Spot Conlon smiled._

_At me._

_Squee!_

I smiled sincerely back, instantly forgetting everything about him returning and all that junk, and then we both turned away and began to sing a song in German along with the rest of the camp's members.

Once the song was finished, the cooks proudly presented the food, and it was served personally to each table. The boy across from me smirked, and purposefully ran his thumb across the back of my hand as he passed me the salad bowl, a flirtatious smile across his face. Thankfully, a glare from Spot fixed that problem. I spooned myself a few grapes before passing it along down the line.

I ate in silence; too busy stuffing my face to really talk with my tablemates. My dad made quick friends with the man sitting across from him, and my mother was enjoying a lively conversation with that man's wife. Dinner was soon finished and the cooks returned, this time with dessert. At first I was excited; I loved sweet things. But this was hardly sweet.

"Poppy seed cake?" I asked in horror, gawking down at the brown-and-gray slice of cake before me. "Spot, can you believe-" I cut off with a sigh as I turned to see Spot, shoving huge amounts of the disgusting stuff into his mouth. Once he had swallowed, he told me, "'Tina, Ise is a Newsie. Any cake is fine tah me."

I slowly nodded, and then turned back to my own piece, picking off a small fork-full and reluctantly sliding it into my mouth. I chewed and swallowed with great determination. Then I just sat there for a moment, staring down at the cake. Finally, I pressed my fork into the cake, flattening it. I continued to do this for several minutes, until my cake looked more like a mud puddle than a German dessert. Spot looked over at it and laughed.

"'Tina, youse is crazy!"

"Nuh-uh," I growled, glaring down at my poppy seed mud puddle. "I just don't- ugh!" I cut off with a groan of pain, clutching my suddenly throbbing stomach with on arm, and using the other to grip the side of the table tightly, my knuckles turning white. Spot lurched forward in distress.

"'Tina, what's da mattah?" he said urgently, grabbing my upper arm.

"I'm fine, I just…" I trailed off, caving inward as another throb scorched through.

"Spot," my father said calmly, "Please take her back to the cabin."

Spot nodded, and gently helped me up, allowing me to lean against his shoulder as I hobbled out, still doubled over in pain. The fresh, crisp air outside seemed to help a bit, and the pain subsided. I stood up a bit straighter, but still clutched Spot's arm tightly.

"Youse need tah be carried, 'Tina?" Spot offered lightly, smirking. I shook my head, not quite realizing it was a joke just then.

"N-no, I'm fine." I mumbled, leaning my head against his shoulder. Spot let out a little sigh and continued to help me along, and to my great relief, we were soon up the hill and back at our cabin.

"'Tina, look," Spot said quietly, pointing at something I hadn't noticed the first time we had entered; a second staircase.

"Let's go up," I murmured, and, leaning heavily on the rail for support, led the way. The staircase was narrow, and Spot was unable to walk beside me, much to his displeasure. When I reached the top I looked around. It was pretty much another bunk room, only with a much lower roof and some hidden nooks and crannies… and lots of cobwebs. It was fairly dark, but the moonbeams that let themselves in through the dusty window panes illuminated the room with a mysterious light.

"Youse should sit down, 'Tina." Spot said gently from behind me. I moved to the side to let him through, and he led me to sit against a low-hanging beam, which ran from the top of the roof all the way to the floor. I laid back, Spot taking a seat next to me.

"Are youse feelin' any bettah?" Spot asked tenderly. I let out a whimper as a dull pain continued to throb in my stomach.

"Something must not have agreed with me at dinner," I said in monotone, and then drew my knees close to me and rested my chin on them, my voice cracking in pain as I choked out, "it hurts, Spot."

He let out a small murmur of uncharacteristic sympathy, and then gently wrapped his arm around my shoulder. For who knows how long we just sat there in silence. After a while, Spot dug into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out a packet of peanut butter-cheese crackers. He ripped it open with his teeth and then handed a cracker to me.

"Want one, 'Tina?" he asked. "Some food mi' help a bit…"

I smiled and took it from him, biting in hesitantly. Suddenly, the cabin door swung open and voices echoed around the downstairs room and up into our little attic hideout.

"Christina!" My mother called. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah," I called down. Spot really had made me feel better. How he knew that food would help; only the good Lord knows, but it worked.

"Where are you?" Ruthie yelled in confusion.

"Up here," I replied. My sister thundered up the stairs, and Spot quickly drew his arm away.

"Wow, this is so cool!" she squealed happily, running around and getting cobwebs in her hair as she explored the hard-to-reach places. "We should start a club up here or something!"

"Maybe," I chuckled, rising to my feet and brushing myself off. "We'll only be here for two more full days, though."

"Youse should probably get some rest, 'Tina." Spot said quietly, gently leading me to the stairs.

"Alright, Spot." I yawned. "See you in the morning."

"'Night, 'Tina."

**!**

**Well, I'm just going to stop it here, since it's become long enough. =P However, since I promised the entire German Village segment to be in this chapter, I'll get started on Chapter 11 right away, and hopefully get it finished and posted! That chappie will thus conclude the German Village mini-trilogy, and get us back to the Turtle house, school, and more fun stuff! ;D**

**Please review, my dear and loving readers!**

**Oh, and ****EmiShae****, I'll be sure to check out your friend's stories! Thanks for telling me! =) I'd love to meet her!**

**Lots of Love,**

**~ Christina 'Amaryllis' Conlon**


	11. The German Village Part III

**Chapter 11, here we come!**

**Not much else to say, except I might jump from one important scene to the next, and avoid boring filler material during the next three days that are covered in this chapter. I hope you don't mind!**

**Oh, and ****Abetterina****, here's a chapter with Spot's POV, just as you wanted! ;) I hope it pleases you. I always struggle with Spot's chapters, because he doesn't know much about this time, unlike Christina, and I don't like having to inch my way through explaining everything… But anyways, I hope this is at least okay-ish! ^_^;**

**Disclaimer: …Yeeeeeaaaah….**

**!~!~!**

**Chapter 11 – The German Village Part III**

_Spot_

"What do you mean, 'no computer'?"

"I'm sorry, Christina, but no computer or TV for the next-"

"What do you mean, 'no TV'?"

Mrs. Turtle sighed, shaking her head. "Just get dressed, Christina."

Christina looked like her entire world had been torn apart right before her eyes, but she slowly hopped off of the bunk and shuffled through her drawer in the dresser, pulling out a long-sleeved red top with rhinestones that made the shape of a flower, hibiscus maybe, and bright green sweatpants that had a small pattern of rhinestones on one hip. She ran off to get changed. I opened my mouth to make a sly offer about me following her or something, but I noticed Mr. Turtle out of my peripheral vision and decided to save it for another time.

She soon returned, and leapt into the room giggling.

"Check it out, everyone," she yelled, spinning around. "I'm a Christmas tree!"

Ruth Joy laughed, and Mr. Turtle chuckled. Mrs. Turtle sighed and shook her head, but was smiling all the same.

Everyone else got dressed, and we all headed downstairs and out into the cold, snowy morning for breakfast.

"_Guten morgen_," Birget, the leader of the German Village, greeted us with a wide smile and a nod of her head as we entered the _Waldsee Café._

"_Guten morgen_," Christina replied, smiling in return.

"What? Whadder ya sayin', 'Tina?" I whispered, leaning forward slightly so that no one but her heard.

"It means 'good morning'," Christina explained, whispering as well. "Try and pick up a few words and phrases; it'll make surviving here a whole lot easier."

Oh, great. I though I was done with 'surviving' when I had exited 1899 and entered the future. I sighed and rolled my eyes, but nodded; after all, knowing a second language wouldn't ruin my life. If anything, it'd make it better.

We all took a seat in front of the same family as we had yesterday; much to my displeasure, that same boy as well. I slid over, so that I was sitting closer to Christina than before, eyeing the boy warily. He glanced at us, but otherwise kept to himself.

What a smart boy.

I glanced down at Christina, who was blushing, and seemed very interested with her extremely long nails. I felt a protective fire flare up inside me.

_I couldn't protect Luciel, _I thought in determination. _So I'll do everything I can to keep 'Tina safe._

**!~!~!**

"Game time, game time, yay-yay, game time!" Christina sang happily, leading the way as we exited the _Waldsee Café _and returned out to the cobblestone paths and fluffy white snow.

"_Hallo_," a woman, in about her forties, called out to us and the other kids our age who had gathered around her.

"That means hello," Christina whispered to me, and I gave a small nod in return.

"_Heute werden wir spielen ein sehr lustiges Spiel_," the woman began, using vigorous hand motions to go along with what she was saying. "_Es ist sehr einfach, die Nutzung dieser Bewegung_-"she clasped both hands together and spun them around, as though stirring something, "-_wenn Sie ein Monster sind_-" she raised her hands above her head and made a snarling face, "-_diese Bewegung, wenn Sie eine Hexe, und diese Bewegung, wenn Sie einen Assistenten sind_." She clasped her hand around an imaginary object and jabbed it forward.

_Oh, this is just great. _I turned to Christina, who was staring at the woman blankly.

"What'd she say, 'Tina?" I asked quietly. Christina shook her head slightly.

"I have no freaking idea."

**!~!~!**

Christina and I were eventually able to piece together what she was trying to say, along with the other teens that were with us, by decoding her hand motions.

Game time was over soon enough, though, and it was free time. I wanted to go back to the cabin – I'd had enough German to last me a lifetime – but Christina wanted to go snowshoeing with her Dad and a couple other men, so I decided to go as well, you know, because they were all men.

"I've never been snowshoeing," Christina admitted, fumbling about with her snowshoes in a failed attempt to get them on. "What about you, Spot?"

"Nevah had to," I grunted in reply, as I too was struggling with my shoes. Mr. Turtle walked over, all geared up and ready to go, and laughed at the sight before him.

"_Brauchen Sie Hilfe?_" he chuckled. Christina shot him a glare.

"English, please," she hissed, and then dropped her foot and twisted snowshoe to the ground with an exasperated growl. Mr. Turtle let out another laugh and bent down.

"Need some help?" he asked, grinning widely. Christina nodded, now over her short bout of anger and smiling sheepishly.

"Okay, you see, you're trying to put it on backwards. What you need to do first is flip it around, so that the long side is facing you. Then unbuckle it and…"

I watched Mr. Turtle's movements closely, observing every hand motion and mentally copying it down. Once he was finished explaining it to Christina, I whipped my head towards my own pair or shoes and, as quickly as possible, redid the steps Mr. Turtle had done. Once I was finished, I turned to Christina, who was now finished and flailing about helplessly, unable to stand. I smirked and walked over, towering above her.

"Need some help, 'Tina?" I said nonchalantly, my smirk widening. Christina looked up at me, a blush creeping over her face as she laughed.

"Yeah, I'm such a dork. I know. Here, help me." She extended her tiny hand, which was protected by a bright pink winter glove, and I took it, effortlessly pulling her to her feet. She stumbled a bit, her body swaying, but was soon stable and ready to go.

"To the wild blue yonder!" she declared, pointing dramatically at the path of which we were supposed to travel. All eyes turned to her, and she averted her accusing finger to me.

"It was him. All him. No, wait. It was me. Yeah, it was me. Ha, ha… Yeeeeeaaaah…" the now-embarrassed girl lowered her finger and slunk behind me, grabbing my shoulders as though I were a shield.

"Help me," she squeaked. I just smirked wider, doing my best to not smile at the situation.

_So cute…_

_Oh, but not as cute as Luciel. No way, no how._

_Oh, just give it up. You know you enjoy being with her._

I let out a small sigh in defeat. _Yeah, I do._

"Spot," a tiny gloved hand suddenly was blurrily waving in front of my eyes. It soon disappeared to reveal the freckled face of Christina, gazing up at me with wide, sparkling hazel eyes.

"C'mon, everyone's leaving!" she smiled and, motioning with her hand for me to follow, began to trudge along the pathway behind the rest of the group. I lifted one heavy, snowshoe-weighed foot and began to follow, plodding along at the pace of molasses. However, since Christina and everyone else were inching through the trail at the speed of a snail, I soon caught up. The man at the head of the group, Martin, suddenly stopped, and, turning to face the group, called out a long, German phrase. I groaned.

_I. Want. ENGLISH!_

**!~!~!**

Today was so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so _long_!" Christina let out a huge, crackling sigh and flopped onto her bunk, snatching up her Tamagotchi from the hook on which she had left them for the entire day – on pause, of course – and began to press the buttons and care for the tiny egg creatures.

"Lemme try, 'Tina," I said, leaping up so that I hung from the edge of her bunk, gazing over her shoulder and swiping at the Tamagotchi. Christina turned away, her back to me, so that the tiny electronic pets were just out of my reach. I frowned; I wanted to try, so I would get to try. I flung myself onto the bed, both Christina and I struggling to keep the other at bay. I muffled Christina's threatening words as I shoved my hand into her face, pushing her down. One elbow was pressed against my stomach, while her other was reaching up as high as it could, the Tamagotchi swinging from its grasp.

"Give 'em tah me!" I hissed, looking down at her angrily.

"Never!" her defiance was muffled by my hand. She shot me a glare, and I felt her wet, soft tongue slide along my palm as she licked me. I smirked lightly – it was going to take more than that to get me away – and shoved my hand against her face, smearing it up along her forehead, pushing her hair back. Christina cringed away, obviously disgusted.

"What are you two doing?"

Both of us froze, our heads turning simultaneously to face the opposite bunk, on which Ruth Joy sat, looking half-asleep and annoyed.

I knew how weird it must've looked. Christina, half of her leaning up against the wall, trying to push me away with her arm, the other half sprawled out on the bed, and the other arm high above us, the Tamagotchi swinging from it. And me, kneeling over her with one hand attempting to grasp the Tamagotchi, and the other pressing into the wall beside Christina's face. One of my legs was dangling over the side of the bunk, while the other was locked with Christina's. I glanced down at Christina, who had lost the fire in her eyes and was now blushing horribly, her eyes scanning the situation as well.

When neither of us replied, Ruth Joy rolled her eyes and flipped over, digging deep into the blankets for warmth.

"Whatever. You guys are weird; I'm going back to sleep."

There was another beat of silence before both Christina and I began scrambling to get away from each other. Once we got untangled I hopped off of the top bunk and slid into mine, lifting the covers and plopping my head onto the white, fluffy pillow. Another beat of silence, and then a timid voice spoke from above.

"Goodnight, Spot."

"'Night, 'Tina."

"You can have the Tamagotchi if you want."

"Nah, Ise is fine. Dat was fun, though."

"What?"

"Wese shoul' do it again some time."

A circular object came flying from the darkness and hit me accurately in the middle of the face. I winced and picked up the Tamagotchi, which had bounced off and landed on my chest. I spun it around my fingers a couple of times from its keychain and then gently placed it on the empty bookshelf which stood between the two bunk sets.

"You're disgusting, Spot." An angry and slightly hurt voice growled, muffled by layers of thick blankets. I smiled lightly, peeking up at the bed above me, where I knew a cute brunette was sulking.

"'Night, 'Tina."

There was an irritated, I-give-up sigh from above.

"'Night, Spot."

**!~!~!**

"Our last full day here," Christina murmured, gazing around the camp from where we stood atop a hill.

"Well, Ise'll be glad tah leave," I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest. "Goimen jus' ain't me thing."

Christina laughed and whacked my arm lightly. "You're such a child," she giggled, but then in a serious, low voice added, "But it is a little tiring, I'll admit. I'm looking forward to returning home, too."

"Well, then, kids, how about we head to the Sauna and warm up a bit?" Mr. Turtle called jollily, swaggering up in his swimming trunks, several towels slung over his shoulders.

"Sauna?" Christina repeated curiously, tilting her head to one side.

"It's like this giant steam room, where you sit and get really hot, and it's really relaxing, and… yep." Mr. Turtle finished with a shrug, and then pointed at a snowy path that led down the back of the hill and around a corner.

"Mom and Ruthie are already down there. So get your swimming suits on and meet us down there, okay?"

"Okay-dokay!" Christina nodded her head vigorously, giving her dad a 'thumbs up' before sprinting off towards the cabin. I sighed and followed more slowly.

**!~!~!**

"Okay, Spot, so why are you just wearing your Newsie pants to the Sauna?"

I glanced at her, and then down at my feet before mumbling, "Ididn'tpackswimmin'trunks."

Christina leaned in, looking confused. "What?"

"I didn't pack swimmin' trunks." I growled, glaring at a random tree. Christina choked out a small giggle.

"Oh, okay." Was all she said.

We arrived at the Sauna soon enough. It was a pretty uneventful trip, I must admit. The most interesting thing that happened was when we went outside, and Christina leapt into a snowbank, and then starting screaming, "I'm gonna die of hypothermia! I'm gonna die of hypothermia!" I had sauntered over and pulled her out, and she clung to my arm for the rest of the walk back, her teeth chattering uncontrollably.

The next day we all woke up fairly early, so that we could get a head start on packing. Then we loaded up the trunk and left. Simple as that.

It was pitch black when we finally rolled into the house's garage. I grabbed both Christina's backpack as well as mine and breezed into the house. Christina dashed around, kissing all the electronic items and sobbing, "Oh, I missed you all. But its okay, nothing will ever separate us again."

I shook my head, laughing silently to myself, and chucked Christina's backpack into her room. Then I went back out into the living room, where Christina was leaning up against the wall, staring blankly at nothing. An idea suddenly popped into my head, and curiosity drove me forward. I crept up close to her, and her eyes snapped into focus, looking up at me. I leaned in slightly, so that our faces were inches apart. Christina's eyes widened in shock, but she gently placed her fingers across my lips and pushed me away.

"Spot, no." she said plainly, sidling along the wall until it was no longer behind her. "That's not something I'm okay with." Her eyes never left mine, until she spun around and hurried into the kitchen. I sighed, slumping down against the wall that she had been leaning against moments before.

_It was worth a try._

**!~!~!**

**Tsk, tsk, Spot! Don't rush a relationship! Rushing relationships is **_**nicht **_**good! BTW, **_**nicht **_**is 'not' in German. I am I nerd or what? =P**

**Oh, and for all those huge German phrases during the game scene? I totally used an online translator for those. I know a few simple words and phrases, but I'm not fluent in any language except for English. And even then… X3**

**But anyhoo, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! IMUO (In My Useless Opinion), my favorite scene to write was the Tamagotchi-bed scene. X3 It was all Christina's fault! She should NOT have defied Spot his wishes. D=**

**SPOTTY WANTS**

**SPOTTY GETS**

**CAPEESH?**

**~ Christina Conlon**


	12. The Balance of Time

**Chapter 12, tee-hee!**

**Wow, I never thought I'd make it this far… usually I run out of muse before the story is actually complete, even if I have everything planned out in my head (like with this one, for example), so a half-written story is left to collect virtual dust in the cobweb-filled corners of my files. But you wanna know what? I think that it's the support from all my readers that keeps me going. So, JUST FOR YA'LL, I'll start replying to your comments RIGHT HERE! Even if it's something like, "Great chapter, update soon!" =D I'm just nice like that. I'll start with the ones from chapter 11 and a few from chapter 10. Okay, so here we go…**

**Abetterina:**Once again, thanks oh-so much for all those wonderful reviews! It's because of you that this story is able to improve! No pain, no gain… although you're CC is PAIN FREE. Wootles, go you! I'm glad that you found this chapter so amusing! I never really thought of myself as a humorous person, but I'll do my best! Thanks forever! =3

**Eavis:** _Ja, ja es ist. _=D And you are correct, the game lady was explaining a game involving wizards, as well as witches and monsters. Yay! Snowshoes! 8D And no, Spot hasn't gotten what he wanted… yet. O_O Remember my very logical piece of advice from Chapter 11 – "Spotty wants, Spotty gets." *nod, nod*

**XXEmiShaeXx:**** (from chapter 10) **Yesh, our little girl is being selfish. But, in the infamous words of your dear friend Scree/Delia… MY SPOT. Ha-ha, I did read Delia's stories; I've just been lazy and have not reviewed yet. I'll get to it though, dun worry! ^_^

**vetintraining756:** Yeah, sorry about all that confusing switches. I originally had little * thingies to separate the time/scene changes, POV switch, etc., but they all disappeared as soon as I uploaded the chapter onto the site! TT_TT So, I figured out a way to TRICK THE SYSTEM and made a new set of symbols to represent time changes! Problem solved! Thanks for reading!

**cybale, writer24, LucyOfNarnia, stormers1998:** Thanks so much for reading, your comments really, really, REALLY inspire me a whole-whole lot! Thanks a thousand times over! =)

**Augh, my leg just fell asleep. XP Okay, so, let's get started on this chapter! YAY!**

**Here ya goes!**

**~Su!**

**Disclaimer: Please check previous chapters for details. Thank you for your service, and we hope to see you again soon. ~Su!**

**!~!~!**

**Chapter 12 – The Balance of Time**

_Christina/Spot_

I let out an agitated yowl and flung my locker door open, slamming it against my neighbor's own. I had arrived to school at an uncharacteristic time; 7:45 on the dot, just when they opened the doors. I, however, was not in a good mood.

_Stupid Spot Conlon, _I thought bitterly, furiously clenching my fists. _Trying to… thinking that he could… just out of the blue… _I let out a small sigh. _I'm such a dork. _I had never thought that anyone would want to kiss _me_, much less a guy like Spot.

_Am I really something important to him?_

I was torn from my thoughts as Emilee trotted over; her school things already tucked safely in her arms, and watched me curiously.

"You okay?" she asked finally. I sighed loudly, falling down onto one knee and unzipped my backpack.

"Spot tried to kiss me yesterday," I stated bluntly. Emilee's eyes widened, and she too dropped down to the floor.

"Really?" she breathed. I paused, replaying the incident over in my head, and then gave a small nod.

"At least, I think so. But maybe I'm just letting my dreams run off with my sanity."

Emilee gave a small laugh, smiling cheekily. "I don't think you'd mistake a kiss, Christina."

"Well, you know… I've never kissed anyone before, so…" I trailed off, now staring off dazedly, one hand shoved deep inside her backpack and the other helping her maintain her balance as she crouched on the edge of the school's hall.

"So, what'd you do about it all?" Emilee questioned curiously, leaning in slightly as she broke me away from my zoned-out state. I gave my head a small shake to clear it – even though I hadn't been thinking about anything in particular – and turned to face her.

"Well, lesse here… I pushed him away. And uh… ran off. And then we didn't talk for the rest of the night." Emilee tilted her head sympathetically.

"I can't say I'm all that surprised." She told me. "Don't want to get too close to him if he's just gonna go back to 1899, huh?"

I turned away, shrugging. "Where'd you find all that stuff, anyways?"

"All that what?" Emilee returned my question with a question.

"The stuff about Spot having to go back by dying, and all that."

"Oh, yeah, that crap. If you can, come over after school and I'll show you."

I nodded. Emilee suddenly sat up straighter, looking around as though she had just realized something important.

"Hey, where is the little weasel anyways?"

I let out a small laugh. "Oh, Patrick?" I said his 'real' name a little louder than normal as Spot's two school friends, Matt and PJ, passed us by on their way to class. Once they were gone, I turned to Emilee and said in a low, secretive voice, "Spot was being an idiot and faked sick so that he wouldn't have to come today. Maybe he's avoiding me; maybe he was stupid and didn't study for the Science test. I'm not sure, but either way, I decided to make his eight hours alone at home miserable."

Emilee cocked her head and quirked an eyebrow, confused. To show her what I meant, I reached into my backpack and extracted two Wii-Motes, two Wii Nunchuks, a GameCube controller, a Gameboy Advance, two DS's, two Nintendo 64 controllers, and all three TV remotes. My best friend's eyes widened in shock and horror at the sight of the objects piled up before her.

"You didn't…" she gasped.

"I did!" I cackled, shoving everything into my locker and grabbing the stack of supplies I needed for the first four periods of school. I glanced up at the clock, and then gave Emilee a pat on the shoulder.

"7:58 already, Em! Where does the time go? I'll call my mom after school and see if I can come over. Wait for me at the double doors, okay?"

Emilee nodded. "Sounds good. I gotta go find Erin. Bye!"

And with that, we both sped off in different directions, me dashing for Mr. Lindie's class, and Emilee sprinting off to find Erin and somehow get downstairs and into her English class with Mr. Flinnigan. Then, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, I let out a quick, high-pitched sneeze, and rubbed my nose as I entered class.

_Hmm. Someone must be talking about me._

**!~!~!**

"I jus' do't see how she coul' jus'… jus'… push me aways like dat!" I sputtered angrily, throwing my hands up into the air, and them letting them fall loosely back onto the bedside. "Do'tja ahgree, Zoom?"

The tiny beige rat turned his whiskery face to look up at me; his eyes squinted in amusement as he watched me suffer. He ground his teeth together loudly before whisking away under the covers, which I decided to take as a yes. Despite myself, I couldn't help but wonder if pet rats – like Pepsi and Zoom, who lived in a nice cage atop Christina's sky-purple dresser – had women problems. I sighed, and then picked each one up in a hand and picked my way through the messy room and gently placed them back in their cage. I swiftly shut and locked the door before they could hop back out and climb up onto my shoulder, and then hurried out of the room, flicking the light off as I went. Mrs. Turtle had lectured me on what and what not to do while she was gone grocery shopping. One of them was to always turn off the lights whenever I left a room.

"Be a good boy," she had called over her shoulder as she exited the house, "and I'll let you eat some yummy snacks before dinner!"

I had to admit; I was easily getting used to life in the future, and specifically the comforts of the Turtle household. They were such a close family, and they made me feel right at home, like I had been one of them all along. Christina's smiling, freckled face instantly flashed through my mind, and I gave myself a quick shake. I sighed and looked around the living room, and then spun around, deciding that there was nothing for me there, and headed down to the basement. The minute I hopped off the bottom step, however, I knew something was wrong.

Terribly, horribly wrong.

I instantly let my Newsie, street-life instincts take over, and I flicked on the light, silently creeping across the carpeted floor as my sharp eyes scanned the space before me. Then, I targeted and zoomed in on the problem;

The side table that stood beside the reclining chair was empty. My eyes widened in panic. I dashed over, my hands running up and down along the smooth wood surface.

No remotes.

My gaze flashed over to the small plastic bin under the TV, where the Wii-Motes usually were stored.

It was toppled over onto one side, the contents gone without a trace.

"No…" I gasped, dashing over and quickly setting the bin where it belonged. "Dis can't be happenin'…"

My gaze flew from one location to another; the GameCube had no controller, and the Gameboy and Cable were missing. The DS, the Nintendo 64…

It was all gone.

"No…" I murmured, falling to my knees in utter despair. This couldn't be happening… Why me? Suddenly, a familiar scene from this morning popped into my mind.

"_Faking will only cause horrible consequences," the brunette had scolded me from where I laid on my makeshift bed. I didn't reply, but merely turned my head away. It was quite humiliating, honestly, to even look at her; she had rejected me, and then was acting as though nothing had ever happened. The girl had sighed, shook her head, and left the room._

Then, all the pieces of the puzzle clicked together. It was all becoming uncomfortably clear.

"'_TINA!_"

**!~!~!**

Several heavy, painful coughs racked my body as I slipped my chunky backpack over my shoulders. My mom had agreed to me going over to Emilee's house, so I was not wasting any time to meet her at the double doors. I wanted to see this information with my own two eyes. Just the thought of Spot leaving made my eyes water.

_I really care about him, don't I? _I sighed, fingering a cord that was dangling from my backpack. I'd give everything back to him once I got home. It made me feel a little guilty, to be honest. I couldn't blame him for avoiding me. It must've been pretty embarrassing, to be pushed away like that.

_He deserves a proper reply, at least, _I told myself silently. _Especially since I might be in l-_

"Hello, Christina," Emilee's sing-songy voice cut into my thoughts. I looked up; I had been so wrapped up in my thoughts that I hadn't noticed that I was now out of the building and standing by the double doors. Emilee bounced up, smiling.

"My mom's car is parked just up the street," she told me. "So let's get going!" I nodded and we both walked off side-by-side, and I think we were both thinking about the exact same subject…

Spot Conlon.

**!~!~!**

"Well, here it is," Emilee said, somewhat dejectedly. She pulled up an e-mail from her inbox. I frowned at it. The first odd thing I noticed was that the 'From:' space was blank. It just said,

_To: Emilee Milner_

_From:_

_Topic: The Balance of Time_

_Hello, Emilee Milner. I do believe that you are close friends with Christina Turtle, am I right? I have some information that may be of interest to you both._

_Currently, a young man named Spot Conlon is staying with Christina. I must thank the family for taking such good care of him. Very soon, however, he will have return to his place among the time of this world. If he does not, everything could be set out of balance. Though it is quite complicated, I will try and explain it here._

_Spot left to come to 2010 in 1899. Though he is with you in your time, his time is still running along without him. Something very important will be coming up in his time, and if Spot is not back before then, dreadful things will happen. I do not know what these things are, but they will be negative one way or another._

_Let me make this short and simple, as I am probably boring you. Spot must die in order to return to his world._

My breath caught in my throat, and I turned to Emilee fearfully, but she pointed back at the computer screen.

"Keep reading."

_Do not fear for Spot, as I will make sure that he gets back to his time safely. I made sure he got to yours, but now I must bring him back. Please take this to heart. It is quite serious._

_Thank you, and Good Luck,_

_Rosebud, L.M._

I was shaking. Whether it was out of fear, despair, confusion, or maybe all three, I'm not sure, but either way, I was shaking. And I was not happy.

"I tried to reply, but my computer would merely freeze up, and then I'd have to reboot it." Emilee explained to me, "It's very, very most extremely confuzzling."

"Yeah…" I murmured, and then shook my head. "Hey, Emilee, could you print me a copy of the e-mail?"

"Uh, sure," Emilee nodded, and then took a seat at the computer desk.

_Maybe I really should tell him, _I thought, looking down at my twiddling thumbs as I blinked back the tears. _After all, it everything the e-mail said makes sense…_

But why should I believe some e-mail? I thought bitterly, clenching my hands into fists, my long nails digging into my soft palm skin. Maybe it's just a prank or something…

I sighed. Any excuse making sure that Spot doesn't go back, right? I thought with a sour smile. I just wanted to keep him with me, and, at the time, that was all that mattered.

**!~!~!**

**Gah, I hope that wasn't too short, ~Su! XP I wanted to get all that information in, but the next events are best put into a separate chapter, so… yeah.**

**The entire chapter itself is 2,015 words (not including the ANs before and after), so it's pretty decent… I guess. I dunno – I'll let my wonderful reviewers be the judge of that! =)**

**Well, thanks for reading! Hope to see you again next time! ~Su!**

**~ Christina Conlon**


	13. Fatal

**Hey, ya'll! It'sa ME! =D**

**Wow, I just got up Chapter 12 and now I'm beginning Chappie 13! =O I've just had a lot of inspiration, I guess. =P**

**Okay, some quick notes on all my wonderful reviews from Chapter 12, and then we'll get on with the story!**

**Ms. Tink/Spot's 1 Goil:***fangirl squeals back* SQUEE! Inorite? 8D Spot is wonderful! But this poor excuse for a story is far from perfect. TT_TT Glad _you_ like it, though! =)

**cassybacker, Lacey White:** Yay! A new reader makes my day! Thanks for bothering to check this fan fic out, and I hope you enjoy reading as much as I do writing! =3

**Abetterina:** Tee-hee, you're welcome! =3 Yeah, I'm sorry if it was like a filler, but the information needed to be stuck in there somewhere, but it wasn't in the original plan for my story so… I had to improvise. Sorry! TT_TT I'm glad that this Chappie wasn't completely useless though, in the eyes of a pro such as yourself. ;D And yes, Spot is now taking up the modern art of video-gaming, and his new best friends are 'Tina's pet rats, Pepsi and Zoom. But hey, that's how the future changes people, ne? ;3 Anyways, thanks a TON, TON, TON for the review, and I hope to make this chapter a little better! =)

**Austra:** W-wait! You can't kill me; then I won't be able to update! Please, spare me for the sake of updating, if nothing else. TT_TT

**cybale:** Grr, this stupid computer keeps capitalizing your username! I'm all like, "nooo!" and change it, but the computer is all like, "yeeees!" and changes it back. _# But anyhoo, glad I can make you smile, inside… and outside! ;D

**Well, anyways, there are the little 'shout-outs', as the wonderful ****Abetterina**** stated in her latest review. ^_^**

**Well, enjoy Chapter 13, ~Su!**

…**Woah, I've been watching WAY too much Pita-Ten… ~Su. O_O;**

**!~!~!**

**Chapter 13 – Fatal**

_Christina_

"Bye, Christina!" Emilee called to me as I hopped out of her mother's red van and down onto my house's cement driveway. "I'll see you tomorrow at school!"

I nodded and gave the widest smile that I could, waving to my best friend as the door closed automatically behind me. I crouched down and slipped under the half-open garage door, and let myself in through the small maroon door that led into the kitchen. But the minute I stepped in, a furious Spot stormed up to me, stomping loudly, a wild fire blazing in his eyes.

"Wheah has youse been?"

I stared up at him blankly, and somewhat fearfully, my eyes never leaving his as I closed the door behind me, pressing my back up against it.

When I didn't reply, Spot continued to rage.

"Ise been waitin' foah youse tah come home foah a full houah," he yowled, throwing his hand up into the air angrily.

"I… was over at Emilee's house," I said, glancing down at my right hand, which held the mysterious e-mail concerning Spot's time travel. Thankfully, he took no notice, but instead, caught me completely off guard. He let his hands fall from where they were positioned above his head, and land loosely on either of my shoulders, pulling me forward just enough so that I was no longer leaning against the door. My eyes widened, and I gazed up into his stormy blues. The fire had dulled, but his eyes glistened with worry as he looked down at me. A faint, almost nonexistent smile twitched at my lips.

_He really must care about me._

However, that thought – along with the teeny-tiny smile – soon dissolved, when the grip on my shoulders tightened, and a string of cuss words flew from Spot's mouth as his eyes soon set ablaze once again, the storm swirling furiously.

"Why didn'tcha cawl?" he yelled, shaking me roughly. I glared at Spot, and lurched forward, shoving him away from me. His grip remained however, and he jerked me along with him as he stumbled back, quickly regaining his balance before he was able to fall. He shot me a stone-hard glare.

"What was dat foah?" he hissed, giving me another shake, his finger digging into my skin. His hands slid down, so that they were now wrapped tightly around my upper arm, almost numbing it. A sudden panic rose up from inside me, and my vision began to become hazy. Spot was strong, and I was feeling his physical power first-hand. I cringed away from the fury, tears springing into my eyes.

"Spot, stop it!" I cried, weakly struggling to escape his grip. "Spot, please! You're hurting me!"

The second the last three words left my mouth, the pressure was gone, and I stumbled back a step, flinching away into the corner by the door, tenderly holding my sore arms. I peeked out from my eyes – which were screwed shut as though they could block out the pain – and looked up at Spot, who was staring at me in shock, his hands raised as though he were at gunpoint.

There was a moment of utter silence, where I huddled in the corner, gazing out at him through one, half-open eye, and Spot stared back at me, as though I were an alien. Finally, however, I crouched down, carefully pulling my backpack over to me from where I had dropped it after entering the house, and unzipped the top of it. Spot watched me as I pulled out all the electronic devices. I looked up at him once I was finished piling it all, my vision still somewhat blurry from tears.

"I'm sorry," I was finally able to whimper, looking down at my feet. Spot crouched down in front of me, concern in his eyes.

"Nah, dis ain't what I was mad 'bout," he said gently, patting the items. "Ise was jus' worried dat sumthin' bad had 'appened tah ya, an' Ise wasn't dere tah prahtect yah."

As sweet as his words were, I was still shaken from his furious rampage, and merely nodded slowly.

"Please don't swear, okay?" I said softly, my voice choked by sobs that so badly wanted to escape, "that's not allowed in this h-"

I was cut off as a strong, painful cough racked my body, followed by a string of several more. I wrapped my elbow around my mouth, rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet as I coughed. Spot's concern turned to pure fear, and he leapt forward.

"'Tina, youse is sick!" he all but cried, his eyes looking me over in panic. I shook my head.

"Spot, it's just-" my words dissolved into another series of painful, breath-taking coughs. Spot pulled me to my feet and drug me into the living room, forcing me into a sitting position on the couch.

"It's just a cough, Spot, I'm fine." I said hoarsely, and then let out another hack, my eyes widening. _Ewww!_

But when I looked up, Spot was gone. I heard a thundering of feet trampling down the stairs, and then the sound of something rolling at an extremely rapid pace. There was a crash from below, and I felt faintly worried.

I rubbed my sore arms and flinched, falling back onto the makeshift bed. I choked out a few more coughs, before letting my eyes close. My head was pounding, filled with thoughts of the events from moments before. Spot had been so… bipolar. First, he was mad, and then he was worried. Then, mad again, shaking me like a dog would a shoe. Then, he was shell-shocked, and then in a total panic. He then switched to caring, and worried, and then he decided to be shy and run off. I groaned, rolling over and burying my face into the fluffy white pillow.

_Smells like Spot. _I thought faintly, before a small smile graced my lips as I slid into a blank, oddly peaceful state of mind.

**!~!~!**

I spun around and fled, trampling down the stairs, only to trip over my own feet and go tumbling down the rest of the way. I leapt to my feet at the bottom, ignoring the carpet burns, and ran over to huddle in a dark corner of the basement. I couldn't help but bite my lip.

I was terrified.

Christina was sick.

_She's gonna die._

She had said it was nothing, but I wasn't stupid. I had lost more Newsies to diesis than any other death-related incident. I couldn't loose her. I had already lost Luciel, and the _other_ girl, but what could I do to save her from illness? I was powerless, and I hated it.

But I couldn't believe I had actually hurt her. I… I hadn't meant to. I was just so sure that me being selfish and staying home was paying its price, and I had lost her for good. Holding on to her made me feel secure, because I knew nothing could tear her away. Except for three simple words. I flinched as her wail of pain flashed through my mind.

"_You're hurting me!"_

I shook my head, an unwanted scene forcing itself through from the dark corners of my memory.

"_Patrick, if yoah gonna play wit me, play it rights!" the tiny girl shouted over her shoulder. Her dirty blond hair, pulled back in two messy braids, streamed out behind her, her stormy blue eyes glimmering with amusement. A boy, about a foot taller than her, was several feet behind, waving a small stick as he chased after her._

"_Annie, slow downs!" he complained, dropping his arm so that the stick now drug along through the dirt. Annie froze, and then spun around, dashing back over to her brother._

"_Patrick, dat's it! Let's draw pi'tures in da doit," she told him excitedly, bouncing up and down. The boy named Patrick rolled his eyes._

"_Dat's a goil's game," he muttered. Annie frowned, her hands on her hips._

"_Ya gots any uddah ideas?" she questioned hotly. Patrick sighed and shook his head._

"_Good. Now let's play."_

_The two children sat down across from each other; Patrick, age 10, and his little sister Annie, age 7. The only differences between the two were their height, hair length, and gender. They both had the same, dirty-blond hair and the same stormy blue eyes, the same fiery personality, and the same last name; Conlon. Patrick and Annie Conlon._

"_Ise miss Mom," little Annie stated suddenly, her eyes never lifting from her drawing in the loose dirt just outside their tiny, run-down house that sat on the outskirts of town. "Ise wonder wheah she went?"_

_Patrick shrugged, leaning over to rustle up the dirt and start his picture over. "She's'll come back tah fetch us someday. We wo't haftah live wit Dad foah much longah."_

_As though on cue, a tall, muscular man stormed through the front gate, his rumpled white shirt covered with dirt smudges and his eyes blazing dangerously. He had thick black hair and a bushy beard to match, with blue-gray eyes that twinkled on the rare occasion that he was happy. He whipped his head to face the kids, grabbing each by the arm and wrenching them to their feet._

"_Get inside," he growled, shoving them roughly through the door, which had never been able to shut all the way. _

_It was dark inside, since Mr. Conlon never bothered to buy any candles, much less electric lights. Most of the rooms were bare, the living room consisting of nothing but an old rocking chair and a few of Annie's rag dolls, scattered across the floor, which she had spent hours upon hours sewing for herself. A bare hole in the wall where a door used to stand led into the kitchen, which had a small wooden table and some chairs, along with a crate, set in the far corner, which held the family's tiny food supply. A small hallway which branched off from the living room led to two little rooms, one of which held a bed for Mr. Conlon, and the other which held a small pile of blankets and pillows, which the children set out each night for themselves. Another crate sat in the corner of each of the bedrooms; the children's had each of their names scrawled messily across the top, and held Patrick's marble collection and was also where Annie stored her rag dolls. No one knew exactly what was kept in Mr. Conlon's crate; the children were forbidden to enter his room, much less touch the objects inside it._

_Mr. Conlon swept his gaze across the living room, his eyes landing on Annie's rag dolls. He let out a low growl and roughly pushed her away, so that she landed with a squeak among her toys._

"_Clean up dat mess," he bellowed furiously, a crude name slipping out from between his lips as he tightening his grip on Patrick's arm, causing the young boy to wince. He then drug Patrick into the kitchen, shoving him into the corner._

"_Do't ya even tinks about movin', or Ise'll see to it dat youse nevah move again." The father snarled. Patrick pulled his knees up to his chest protectively, burying his face in them, and letting out a whimper. A heavy force slammed against the back of the boy's head, causing him to lurch out of his defensive curl, scrambling farther into the corner until his back was pressed against the wall. The father let out a cruel smirk._

"_Dat's what I thought." He said quietly, and then stomped out of the room. Patrick gently poked the back of his head and winced as searing pain shot through his skull. Suddenly, there was a yowl of rage and a large crash from the living room. A cruel, venomous word echoed throughout the house, but it passed right through Patrick without effect. The boy blinked, rubbing his eyes in hopes of holding back the tears._

"_You wench!" Mr. Conlon furious voice bellowed. "I thought I tolds ya tah pick dis crap up!" another crash, and a sob._

"_I'm sorry, Daddy," Annie's voice cried, followed by a scream of pain. "Daddy I said I'm sorry!"_

_Patrick scrambled up from where he had been and dashed over to the gaping hole, peeking through with wide, terrified eyes. Mr. Conlon grabbed his daughter by the head and slammed her up against the wall. He pulled her away to reveal a spattering of bright red blood. Patrick choked out a tiny squeak, quickly averting his gaze back to his little sister. She hung limply from her father's huge hand, dangling by her hair about a foot off the ground. Mr. Conlon growled something that Patrick couldn't make out and slapped the tiny girl across the face._

"_Daddy, stop it," the little girl sobbed weakly, struggling in vain to escape the deathly grip. "Daddy, please! __You're hurting me__!"_

_Mr. Conlon curled his lip in disgust and tossed the girl across the room. She hit the wall with a sickening crack and slid down, her battered body limply falling to the floor, her hair covering most of her face and her sky-blue dress caked with dirt and blood. Mr. Conlon stared at the tiny girl, who looked more like a doll than a child, and silently left the house. Patrick stood in his hiding place in utter shock, staring blankly at his little sister. Then he dashed over, falling to her side and brushing her hair away and pulling her close to him._

"_Annie?" he questioned, the tears clogging his throat and causing him to rasp the name. There was no reply. He placed his hand on her chest. There was no heartbeat. The boy let out a loud, piteous wail, pounding the wooden floor furiously with his fists, while the tiny, battered girl lay draped across his lap._

_The beautiful little rag doll known as Annie Conlon was no more._

Spot shook his head, wiping a single tear which had managed its way down his cheek, and quickly banished the memory deep into the dark corners of his mind. After the death of his sister, Spot had vowed to never hurt a girl. And aside from one accidental incident a while back, he had been able to keep true to that vow.

_Until now. _He thought bitterly, glaring silently into the darkness of the cool, quiet basement, attempting to sort himself out and begin forming a plan.

He was finally able to decide one, simple thing; he was going to talk to Christina - about the kiss, about the incident from only a bit ago, everything. Slowly Spot rose to his feet and trudged up the stairs, thinking about what he would say. However, when he entered the living room and looked over at the couch where he expected Christina to be, he found the young girl fast asleep, sprawled out along his bed.

Spot let a small smile twitch at his lips as he walked a few extra feet and sat down quietly on the comfy reclining chair. Though he was worried – no, _terrified_ – about Christina's sickness, he couldn't help but feel oddly peaceful as he sat, in a calm silence, watching the petite girl sleep. Closing his eyes, Spot let himself drift off into the darkness of sleep.

**!~!~!**

I opened my eyes, looking around in a strange, eerie calmness. It was pure darkness, save a large, shining willow tree that a good distance away. The tree's delicate branches waved to my left, and I closed my eyes peacefully, breathing in the sweet breeze. I heard a tiny, breathy voice whisper something I couldn't understand into my ear, and my eyes flew back open, zeroing in on the willow tree. It was illuminated from behind with an unearthly glow, shimmering as though it was covered with stars, and I felt a sudden flow of serenity. I slowly walked towards the tree, wanting to be closer to this object which gave me so much comfort.

Suddenly, a shadow flickered out from behind the tree, and a tall, slender girl wearing a beautiful wedding dress, and long, loosely curled blond hair that fell just past her shoulders, a few locks pulled back by a clip, took a step out from behind the trunk. Her face was hidden by shadows, and she stood under the tree, the branches billowing around her.

"Christina," she said quietly. I just stood there, unsure of how to reply.

"He must return." She said the three simple words in no more than a whisper. My mouth made the movement of gasping, but no sound came out.

_Spot?_

"Send him back!" she called urgently, extending a delicate, pale hand, pointing all five fingers towards me. I took a tiny step back, that movement alone taking a great amount of force to execute.

"Christina?" a familiar voice called from nowhere, echoing around the black, unending space. A glimmer flashed from beneath the shadows which covered the girl's face, and she returned her hand back to her side in one, abrupt movement.

"Please, I will keep him safe," she promised me in a low voice, all of her muscles tensing as she spoke to me. "Just send him back."

"I won't!" I screamed, my voice suddenly returning, and hot tears springing into my eyes. "I won't send him back!"

She leapt forward, her flowing dress making an elegant swishing noise as she landed less than a foot away from me. She instantly lowered her head so that I couldn't see her face, and I saw her fists clench.

"Send. Him. Back." She growled lowly. I shook my head furiously.

"I won't, I won't!" I shouted, taking another, forceful step back. "He's _my_ Spot!"

"Christina?" the voice repeated, sounding a bit more urgent than before. The girl began to fade, and she grabbed hold of my shirt, balancing herself as she began to sway.

"Please," she choked out, as though she were crying. "Give him back to me. I will take him home. I will-"

"No!" my voice cracked as I tried to scream and cry at the same time. "I won't give him back! I l-"

"Christina!"

The voice cut through the strange place like a knife, and the wind picked up to violent speed. I closed my eyes against it, protecting my face with one arm. I felt the girl's grip slide from my shirt, and her scream of frustration fade away. The wind stopped abruptly, and I warily removed my arm from over my eyes, opening them. Bright light flooded over my vision, and I had to blink several times before it cleared away. The first thing I saw was the worried face of my mother, who was bending over me with various pieces medical equipment clutched in both hands.

"Oh, thank goodness you're awake!" she breathed a sigh of relief, smiling weakly.

"Mom, I-" the second I opened my mouth, my mom jabbed a thermometer into my mouth, muffling my feeble complaint. My eyes widened in surprise, but after a moment of figuring out what was going on I rolled them.

"Just keep still, sweetie." She said, brushing a stray piece of hair out of my face. "I'll be _right _back. Spot, please pour her some medicine and keep an eye I her. I've got to go unpack the groceries." And with that she spun around and hurried into the kitchen. I glanced over to see Spot, half-awake, groggily rubbing his eyes as he sat up from his position on the reclining chair.

"'Mornin', 'Tina." He mumbled blearily. I mumbled a hello, but it was so muffled and quiet that I'm sure he didn't hear it.

"Listen… sorreh 'bout oilior **(earlier)**, Ise was… worried. So, _so_ worried. I just felt more secure, holdin' ontah ya, ya know?" Spot mumbled his apology, looking down at his ever-so-interesting fingers.

I nodded, unable to reply in any other way. Spot gave me a weak, half-smirk-half-smile and got up, wandering around the room aimlessly.

"Spot, I thought I told you to pour Christina's medicine!"

"Sorreh, Mrs. Turtle," my wonderful young man chuckled, and then hurried over to have the whole 'medicine' thing explained to him.

"So dis'll really make her bettah?" he questioned into amazement.

"Yes," my mom nodded, snatching the thermometer from my mouth, checking it briefly, and then shoving the small dose of orange liquid medicine into my hands. "Now, drink that and rest up honey."

"Why?" I asked, wrinkling my nose at the medicine.

"Didn't I tell you?" my mom looked slightly surprised, fiddling with some random stuff around the living room. I shook my head.

"Oh, well, alright then. We're going to a live concert tonight over at the PAC!" she flashed me a smile, and then whisked around the corner and back into the kitchen. Spot turned to me, question mixed with excitement in his eyes. Those wonderful, stormy blue eyes…

"'Tina, what's da PAC?" Spot asked me, sitting on the arm of the couch. I set the medicine aside, thankful for a distraction, and began to explain.

"It stands for Performing Arts Center, and even though it's inside the High School, it's an open place that many theatre activities. I wish I could remember which band is playing, though…" I frowned slightly, but no matter how hard I thought, I just couldn't remember. Oh well.

Spot nodded, and then silently got up and left the room, probably heading into the basement to play video games.

_Boys…_

Of course, this boy meant everything to me. I let out a wistful sigh, my dream returning to me. This was all so… wacky. First the e-mail, now my dream? Something was definitely up.

_I'm sorry, weird dream girl, _I thought silently, wondering if she could hear my thoughts. _But Spot's going to stay with me. I'm in l-_

"Christina, what do you want for dinner?" my mother's voice called from the kitchen.

I pondered this for a moment, and then yelled back, "Whatever Ruthie wants!" Then, I closed my eyes and folded my hands, bowing my head so that my chin rested gently on my chest.

_Dear God, _I thought, mouthing the words silently. _If it's really Spot's destiny to return to the past, then let it happen. But please, please, _please _let that not be that case. You know how I feel about him. _

I paused, thinking of what else to say for a moment, and then began again.

_You sent him here, so why should he be taken away from me? Thank you for listening, Amen._

**!~!~!**

**And thus, some more things were explained! Sorry for the lack of funny-ness, but the chapter had an overall serious air to it, so I thought that I shouldn't ruin it with some lame comical gag or something. =/**

**I hope Christina didn't seem to Mary Sue-ish, especially when she was fighting with Spot at the beginning. I know that acting tough and then going defenseless is a total red-flag no-no for a writer, but that's the way Christina is. She tries her hardest to be tough, to be cool, but she ends up just wimping out in the end. XP**

**Well, that's about it! Hope you enjoyed =) Chapter 14 will be out soon!  
**

**OMGosh and this installment to the series is beginning to reach its final chapters! **

**O_O Woah. **

**Never thought I'd see the day! Okay, I'm leaving now. =3**

**~ Christina Conlon**


	14. The Cat's Pajamas

**Chapter 14! =D**

**Okay, some quick shout-outs…**

**Austra:** Whew, thank you! Here's the update! *presents on silver platter*

**Eavis:** Yay! Praying! FYI, Christina Turtle IS a Christian, but I don't want to make the story too religious, soooo…

**writer24:** Well, I have the sequel all planned out, but you're on the right track… ;)

**cybale:** Good, I'm glad that Spot is not OOC. Thanks for letting me know!

**Spot's 1 Goil:** Here's the update! 8D

**Abetterina:** Thank you for reviewing, even if it did take a long time! ;) I'm glad that you liked the description, and I'm oh-so happy that my attempt to make people dislike Spot's father with a great-great passion was a success! Mr. Conlon, you just got PWNED! X3 Anyways, thanks for such nice reviews, as usual! And I hope that you're still alive to review again! ;P

**Firefly Conlon:** THOU'S WISH HATH BEEN GRANTED…ETH. Sorry for the delay, I hope you enjoy! Newsies Sistahs Unite! =D

**Tee hee hee, yummy. I'm eating an egg salad sandwich for lunch right now, along with chip crumbs and two baby carrots. *crunch* Okay, make that one baby carrot. X3 Nummy, nummy!**

**Well, not much else to say, so I guess I'll just leave you to read Chapter 14! =)**

**Enjoy, please!**

**Oh and P.S, you know those names that are like this- **_Christina/Spot_**, under the Chapter title? Well, that tells you who's POV the chappie's gonna be in. I think that for Chapter 13, I only typed Christina, even though it was in Spot's POV as well, but oh well.**

**Okay, I'm officially going to let you read now. =3**

**Disclaimer: *searches eBay* Darn you, Firefly! I can't top that bid! Curse me and my bankruptcy! *shakes fist angrily***

**!~!~!**

**Chapter 14 – The Cat's Pajamas**

_Christina/Spot_

I awoke from a sound sleep to someone shaking me. I blinked my eyes open blearily and rolled over, glaring half-heartedly at my little sister.

"C'mon, Christina, get up!" she complained, grabbing my loose t-shirt and attempting to drag me off the couch.

"I'm slee-ee-eepy," I drawled, shaking her off, and sitting up as I rubbed my eyes. "Do I gotta go?"

"You slept for _three hours_, Christina," my mother sighed, walking in to the living room to grab her coat and her purse. "Come on, honey. Get up, brush your hair and teeth, and let's get going. The concert's going to start any minute now."

I groaned and flopped lazily off the makeshift bed, landing on the carpeted floor with a dull _thud._ With a grunt I rose to my feet, stumbling into the back bathroom to get ready.

Once I was finished, I headed out the front door and met with my mom, dad, Ruthie, and Spot on the sidewalk.

"We're all here?" my dad did a quick head count, and then nodded. "Good. Alright, let's head out!"

With those words, we all began the short journey to the High School. Suddenly, Spot grabbed my shoulder. I jerked my head to face him, slightly shocked. With his free hand, he motioned to a short, dark shadow that was slinking along behind us. I tensed for a moment, but then laughed.

"Spot, that's just our cat. C'mere, Tommy!" I shrugged off Spot's hand and bent over slightly, patting my hands against my knees. Tom's ears perked and he quickened his pace, so that he was soon trotting along at my side. I turned back to Spot, grinning.

"Tom follows us around like a little dog whenever we go for a walk." I gave a small laugh. "Maybe he'll want to watch the show with us."

Spot, Tom and I continued to walk along at the rear of the group, and soon enough we arrived at the doors of the High School. I glanced over my shoulder to check on Tom, who had fallen behind. I notices that one of the Emcees had seen him, and was crouching down in front of the dark tabby, motioning to him and saying in a high-pitched voice, "C'mere, kitty-kitty!"

Tom flattened his ears; his pelt bristled, and let out a defiant hiss before sprinting off back towards the direction of the house. The young man looked slightly shocked, but soon returned to his dignified position at the door.

"That's our cat," I called, but I'm not sure if he heard me.

We all bought our tickets and headed into the auditorium, where we took our seat. Just as we did so, the lights above us darkened, and the stage lights flashed on.

Four men leapt onto center stage from behind the curtains, instantly beginning to sing. They were _amazing_. Apparently they were known as The Cat's Pajamas, an all-vocals band, or Capella or something like that. Basically, they didn't use any instruments, but only their voices. Usually, one person would sing, while the others would dance around in the background and be the 'instruments'. It was, I must admit, pretty neat.

Intermission rolled around, and Spot and I stood up to stretch our legs. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone _very_ familiar.

"Jared!" I squealed, racing over to where he was standing, looking around in boredom. He turned at the sound of his name, and smiled.

"Hey, Christina; I thought you might be here."

I turned around and sifted through the crowd of people until I found Spot, eyeing the two of us rather coldly.

"Yeah, um, I didn't tell you this, but…" I sucked in a deep breath, hurriedly explaining the whole Spot situation to my long-time guy friend. I knew he was someone I could trust, but so far, out of all my friends, he and Emilee were the only ones who know who 'Patrick Conlon' really was. By the time I was finished, Jared had quirked an eyebrow and was standing somewhat rigidly.

"Spot's sleeping in your house?" he questioned finally. "I'm not okay with that."

_Well, it doesn't matter what _you're _okay with, now, does it? _I thought. If I ever did something Jared thought I shouldn't, he'd always tell me, "I'm not okay with that." I knew that he was just looking out for me, but I could take care of myself.

"Yeah, well…" I paused, looking up into the eyes of my bronzed skin, black-haired, super-tall friend, "he doesn't have anywhere else to go, so it was the Christian thing to do."

Jared snorted slightly. "Yeah, and the _fangirl _thing to do."

"Fan goil foah what?"

I spun around to face Spot, who had snuck up and unexpectedly joined the conversation. Jared's eyes widened.

"It really is him…" he murmured. I nodded.

"Spot, this is Jared. Jared, this is Spot." I motioned to each boy in turn, silently praying that they could get along for the next few minutes of intermission. There was an awkward pause, and then Jared stuck out his hand, to which Spot returned with a spit-shake, his stony eyes never loosing contact with the other boy's chocolate brown ones. Jared pulled his hand out of the grasp rather quickly, staring at his palm for a moment before wiping it off on his shirt.

"You're so disgusting," he grumbling, turning away to face me again. I shrugged.

"It's a Newsie thing, Jared," I pointed out. Jared just rolled his eyes.

Suddenly, Emilee bounded up, and I was ever-so-thankful for an excuse to ignore the obvious tension.

"I think I'm in love!" Emilee giggled, feigning a swoon. I laughed, hugging her randomly.

"With who?" I said, edging away from Spot and Jared, who seemed to be attempting a conversation. Emilee's giddy grin widened and she pointed to one of the Cat's Pajamas singers. We both let out simultaneous squeals of delight and jumped up and down.

Spot and Jared turned to face us, eyebrows raised. I waved shyly, and Emilee called out a quick hello to them both.

The lights began to dim once again, so Spot hurried back to our seats while Jared settled into his own. Emilee and I hugged once more and then went our separate ways, me sliding in beside Spot and Emilee running farther back to sit with her own family. The stage lights flashed an array of neon colors, and the vocal band bounced onto the stage once again.

"I hope you folks are ready for another great song!" the one in the pink shirt called out. Everyone cheered, and a couple of overly-excited fangirls started taking pictures and screaming. They reminded me of… me. I smiled at the thought.

"Okay, so now," the one in the black shirt took the center stage, the microphone magnifying his voice to fill the entire room, "we're gonna do our own version of a classic song, 'Kiss the Girl'. Now, we're gonna need all you folk's help, so just do as we say, 'kay?"

The crowd's cheers were never louder. The black-shirted one backed up, and the man with the green shirt took his place.

"This is a love song, right? So the first step is for the guys to put an arm around that special someone; got it?"

I looked around, and smiled when my dad draped an arm across my mom's shoulders. The sound of clothes rubbing again clothes echoed around the PAC, as all the couples snuggled closer. Suddenly, I felt a pleasant weight across my own shoulders, and looked up in surprise at Spot, who had a half-smirk, half-smile gracing his face. I twisted around to look behind me, and saw Emilee, watching us with the biggest grin I had ever seen. I glanced nervously at my dad, who was watching us out of the corner of his eye. I couldn't tell if he was smiling on not, but he wasn't openly objecting. Eventually I just leaned in happily, doing my best not to smile like an idiot.

"Okay, looks like we've got that all set," now the man in the blue shirt was talking, leaning in slightly to check the crowd. "Now, as we sing, we're gonna spotlight a few different couples. When the spotlight is on you, ya gotta kiss. Easy enough, right?"

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. The man nodded and then leapt back, allowing the lead singer to take the limelight. And so the song began.

I followed the spotlight with my eyes, and smiled each time a happy couple kissed. Of course, the thought didn't cross my mind until a ray of light practically blinded me. I shaded my eyes, and then blinked as realization sunk in.

"_You gotta kiss da girl_!" the lead singer's voice was clear and beautiful, but I was barely paying attention. My eyes were transfixed on Spot's, who's swirling blue-gray storm was strangely hypnotizing. I couldn't look away.

I saw my father stiffen, my mother looked a bit nervous, and Ruthie's mouth was in a wide O. All eyes were on us and my cheeks aflame. But I couldn't do anything. All I could think was _Will he actually kiss me? Is this really what I want?_

I had always wanted to save my first kiss for my wedding day, but at the moment all I could do was wait, breathless, adrenaline coursing through my veins. He wet his lips nervously, and I unintentionally did the same. He leaned in, gazing at me, searching for a sign, a reaction. I screwed my eyes shut, not wanting to show him how scared I suddenly felt.

_Stop it, Spot! I don't want to-_

My entire body shut down as his warm lips pressed against my nose. My eyes shot open, wide and unblinking. He lingered for a moment, looking at me. I wasn't sure why, but for some reason he seemed just as scared. His eyes mirrored my own.

But why was he scared? Knowing him, knowing that he was a _Newsie_, I seriously doubted that this was his first kiss. Besides, it wasn't even a kiss, technically speaking. Just a quick peck on the nose. I was finally able to blink, and I felt tears cloud my eyes. Spot slowly drew away, his eyes never leaving my own. I heard the lead singer mutter something along the lines of, "it'll do", but it was in one ear and out the other.

I was… in bliss, yet more scared than I had ever been in my entire life. I couldn't tell whether the tears that threatened me were those of joy or fear, or maybe a little bit of both. I opened my mouth to speak, but in the end merely closed it and smiled up at Spot. He returned it, a pure and smirk-less smile, and then turned back to watch the rest of the show. I turned back as well, and touched my nose as a tingling sensation tickled it. A shiver ran down my spine, expanding across my entire body. Spot gave my shoulder a small squeeze, and the shiver turned to a wave of warmth. I think it was then that I realized something.

_I never want him to leave. Ever._

**!~!~!**

**Woot! Oh, the fluff! =3**

**OMGosh, you guys, I am SO SORRY for the delay. Y'see, our computer had this HORRIBLE virus, and my dad had to completely wipe our entire computer's memory! Thankfully, he saved ALL my files on this super-huge data stick, and I was able to find my half-finished chapter among all the other junk on there and I finished it. I hope you enjoyed! =)**

**It's 12:47 AM here, and I'll have you know that I was working on this since 11:00 PM, because I didn't want to finally update with a crappy chapter. At least, I HOPE this isn't crappy. ;P**

**Anyways, please review! New chapter will be coming soon! Until then, stay alive, look both ways before crossing the street, and watch out for hobbits with lollipops! =3**

**~ Christina Conlon**


	15. Under the Shining Owl Moon

**La, la, la… *bobs head to catchy beat***

**Sorry, but this chapter is based off the song 'Under the Shining Owl Moon', so… yeah. ^_^ Plus, more of that fluff that all my reviewers seemed to enjoy!**

**I was just looking back on my last chapter, and I realized that it was pretty dang short. So, I'm attempting to make this one longer and less filler-ish. But anyhoo, enjoy!**

**Now, on with the shout-outs! =D**

**scratch conlon:** It's the thrill-ar! *does horrible Michael Jackson 'Thriller' impersonation* Sorry, but I was just listening to a Nightcore'd version of that song, so now it's stuck in my head, and you telling me that my stories 'thrilled' you reminded me of it. X3 But as always thanks for reviewing, and thanks for all the compliments! I'll have to print your comment out and frame it sometime. ;3

**Eli-Is-My-Emolicous-Lover:** Really? You really think it's good? Aw, you're just the sweetest! *tacklehugs, but misses and ends up glomping random person behind EIEL* Oops… sorry! ^_^; And I'm glad that you thought the chapter was cute, as it was one of the many aspects I was aiming for when writing it. You rock! =)

**cybale:** Here's your fluff, please enjoy! And yeah, I'm happy I updated, too. =)

**MeggieMoo369:**Welcome to Fan Fiction, Meggie! =) I hope you enjoy my story, and thanks so much for reading!

**LucyOfNarnia:** Yeah, he did! Now he's got half his wish. ;3 Will he ever actually kiss her? Read on to find out! 8D

**Firefly Conlon:** Welcome back! =D I'm sure you had loads of fun! NEWSIES SISTAHS UNITE! =D

**Well, now that that's finished, let's get on with the chapter, shall we? ;)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, or I can't believe it's Not Butter.**

**!~!~!**

**Chapter 15 – Under the Shining Owl Moon**

_Spot/Christina_

I'll admit it; that single kiss on the nose had been better than any 'actual' kiss that I'd ever had, even with Luciel. It was all I could think about that night as I slowly faded into sleep. It was what I dreamed about when I finally slipped away, and was the first thing on my mind when I woke, which I'll admit was a bit abrupt.

I opened my eyes slightly, finding that it was still dark. Weak rays of moonlight filtered through the drawn drapes of the living room's picture window. I was lying on my side, facing the window. The first thing I felt was a breath of hot air against my face. I blinked several times, and then found myself staring straight into the face of Christina. Here eyes were wide, filled with alarm, her slightly parted lips inches from my face. She scrambled back, falling onto her rear with a light _thump_, staring at me and breathing rather quickly.

"'Tina?" I mumbled groggily, rubbing my eyes and propping myself up on one elbow. Her eyes flickered to my bare chest, but quickly – almost guiltily – returned to my face.

"What time is it?" I asked, yawning. She shrugged, muttering something that sounded like, "midnight…"

There was a pause; a peaceful, serene silence in which we gazed at each other, never loosing eye contact. Finally, Christina leaned forward, grasping my wrist with her tiny hand and pulling me to my feet.

"C'mon," she murmured, so quietly that I was barely able to hear it.

Grabbing her dad's oversized woolen jacket along the way, she hurriedly led me to the sliding glass door that led out onto the back deck. Quietly closing the door behind us, she took me to the very edge, so that we could easily gaze across the snow-laden yard. It sparkled in the moonlight, in the most beautiful way imaginable. All objects – trees, houses, fences – were pitch black, silhouettes against the glimmering snow. A slight flurry surrounded us, but it was particularly pleasant. I felt Christina gently; cautiously help me into the jacket. There was a small pause, and then she tapped me on the shoulder. I looked down at her, and she pointed at the starless sky.

"Look."

I turned to look at what had caught her attention. It was the moon; the full, shining, flawless moon. It was mysterious, it was unexplained… it was beautiful.

I glanced down at Christina, who was gazing up at it in wonder. A few flakes of pure white, crystalline snow had landed delicately in her hair, and tipped her naturally long eyelashes. Her eyes seemed to be sprinkled with iridescent stars, the stars which had failed to appear in the sky that night. She had a small smile of… it's hard to explain exactly what was in her smile, but it seemed to be wonder, sadness, innocence, and fear all held together in that one expression.

I couldn't help but wonder why she was sad and afraid, but before I could think more on the subject, Christina suddenly grabbed onto my jacket's sleeve with both hands, her eyes now the size of saucers, and she exclaimed, "Oh Spot, look!"

My gaze whipped up to follow hers, and finally landed on a single creature, perched perfectly on a thin branch, outlined by a silver shaft of moonlight.

"A snowy owl," Christina whispered breathlessly. The owl's orb-shaped head craned to look straight at us, and it let out a tender coo.

"If my memory serves," Christina said, blinking rapidly as she thought, "owls are said to be the markers of gods. Of course they're also the symbol of knowledge, wisdom, and-" she suddenly cut off, shaking her head, a blush creeping across her face. The streaks of red seemed to contrast so well with her pale skin, glittering eyes and snow-fringed lashes. At that moment, she looked so… cute.

"An' what, 'Tina?" I asked quietly, my curiosity growing when she failed to finish her sentence. Christina shook her head, looking even more embarrassed.

"I-it's not important. Never mind. Just… just wisdom and knowledge, that's it."

I raised my eyebrows, not believing that it really ended there, but decided to leave it be when her gaze returned to the snowy owl, the blush slowly fading away. I, too, looked up at the mystifying creature as it continued on with its gentle coos.

**!~!~!**

_Owls, symbol of knowledge._

Indeed, the weight of my own knowledge was keeping me from enjoying such a flawless, romantic night. I took a deep breath. I'd tell him, right here and now.

"Spot, you know how you came from 1899?" I began carefully. Spot nodded silently.

"Well, you see, I had this dre-" I cut off immediately when I felt his arm wrap around my shoulders and pull me so that I was pressed against his side.

"Youse seem a lil' cold, 'Tina," he murmured, his eyes fixed upon the owl. I nodded mutely, all determination to finally tell him everything flying away. He didn't even press me on what I had been saying; he just pulled me closer. I reluctantly laid my head against his shoulder, letting out a small sigh. And there we stood, for who knows how long, just watching the snowy owl and the shining moon.

**!~!~!**

I awoke for the second time to find sunlight streaming in from the picture window. I blinked sleepily, and slowly my vision cleared.

I glanced up at the clock on top of the piano, which sat in one corner across from where my head lay. Seven o'clock. I furrowed my brow; usually I woke up earlier than that. But then memories of last night came flowing back, followed by a smirk. It had been such a… sweet night, if you will. Just standing there, watching the sky. I wasn't sure why, but it had calmed my frayed nerves, not to mention it showed that Christina wasn't upset about the 'kiss'. I sighed, sitting up and stretching my arms above my head. My 'relationship' (if that's even what it should be classified as) with Christina was unlike any other. It wasn't a hot-cold, and we weren't going steady – as my modern-day friends would say – but somehow… we were 'together'. It was hard to explain, but it was there, for sure.

Deciding that it couldn't possibly be healthy to think such complex thoughts before breakfast, I rose to my feet and ambled into the kitchen, now fully awake. I saw Mr. Turtle making himself some coffee and toast, still clad in his pajamas, so I walked up behind him and peered over his shoulder. He glanced over after noticing my presence, and then smiled.

"Good morning, Spot," he greeted. "Would you like some buttered toast?"

I shrugged, unsure on whether I was supposed to take up the offer or decline it. Luckily, in that particular household, when someone asked you a question, you could answer however you wished.

"It's really good," Mr. Turtle coaxed, popping two slices of whole-wheat bread into the toaster.

I grinned. "Fine, why nawt?" Mr. Turtle chuckled, his eyes twinkling.

"Glad to hear it."

Soon enough, the toast was finished, and Mr. Turtle spread thick layers of 'I can't Believe it's not Butter' across each slice, before serving my share to me on a small plate at the table. He sat down as well, munching on his breakfast.

There was a moment of silence, as we both ate, but then he spoke.

"You know, Spot," he began, setting his half-finished slice back onto the plate, "when my wife first called me and told me that you were here, I had to check my calendar to make sure it wasn't April first!" he laughed at this, but soon became serious. "It wasn't."

Another pause.

"I trust you with her, you know," he stated suddenly, intense fire blazing in his eyes, "Christina, I mean. If she's happy with you, I'm happy with her being happy with you." I blinked, taking an extra few seconds of my life to process that last sentence. Mr. Turtle waited, but, after seeing that I had nothing to say on the subject (for I was at a loss of words) he leaned back in his chair, letting out a short – almost _wry_ laugh.

"I thought I'd never let either of them go," he muttered, grabbing at his buttered toast and taking a big bite, "but here I am, doing exactly that!"

But thinking about it, I couldn't help but feel that Mr. Turtle was being a bit hasty. Sure, I cared for Christina very deeply, there was always me going back to 1899, us being just children, and… Luciel…

_Who is _gone_, you idiot! _A voice scolded me from inside. _Stop thinking about dead people!_

But how could I? You can never _truly _forget about someone who has such a huge impact on your life, whether it is for the better or worse.

"_Patrick, if yoah gonna play wit me, play it rights!"_

"_Do't ya even tinks about movin', or Ise'll see to it dat youse nevah move again."_

"_Patrick darling, dinner is ready! Where on earth is your sister?"_

"_If you don't mind, Spot… I'd like to stay here, in Brooklyn, with you."_

A shiver ran down my spine as I thought of the sole person who had officially put a fingerprint on my life. The person who, no matter what, I would always remember.

"_Well, it's _not _'sugah', so stop calling me that. It's Christina, and that's all I go by."_

**!~!~!**

"Patrick, think fast!" I spun around at the sound my name – which I had grown quite accustomed to being called – only to be met face-to-face by a basketball. PJ jogged across the school gym, picking up the basketball as it rolled away from me, groaning and rubbing my face.

"Nice one," he said sarcastically, grabbing the ball and twirling it on one finger. Despite being one of the shortest kids in the school, he was pretty good at sports; basketball in particular.

"Seriously man, get into the game!" he rolled his eyes. "And quit staring at the girls. Are you even listening to me?"

"Of course he's not," Matt came up to stand beside PJ, eyeing me with mischievous look, "he just wants catch an eyeful of Christina Turtle in shorts."

At this I spun around, throwing a mock-punch in his direction. If I had wanted to, I could've easily knocked a tooth out, seeing how slow his reflexes were, but I knew better, with teachers watching and all. Besides, Matt was my friend, and having friends felt… nice.

I mean, sure, I had friends back in 1899, but not _real _friends. All Newsies feared me, hoity-toities hated me, and girls… yeah. I only had, what, three friends? And only one that lived in Brooklyn with me. Jack 'Cowboy' Kelley, Racetrack Higgins, and Twig Douger, my second in command. Even then, Jack and Race lived all the way in Manhattan, and held high respect for me; I was above them, even Jack. And Twig _had _to follow my orders, or else. But here, and 2010? Not a chance. I was just another kid, with two friends who could pick on me and give me noogies without fear of never seeing again. With PJ and Matt, I didn't have to be all 'high and mighty' and worrying about whether I could trust them or not. We all were just kids, living life as equals.

I liked it.

I was pulled from my thoughts as another basketball hit me right in the gut. Letting out a gasp a air, I grabbed the ball, looking around in confusion.

"Conlon, throw it!"

"Throw it, man!"

"In the basket, idiot!"

I spun around, lightly tossing the ball. It sailed through the air, landing in the basket with a satisfying _swish_. Just at that moment, Mr. Jubenker blew his whistle.

"Alright boys, good job! Team one wins, go get ready for your next class!"

As we all thundered back towards the locker room, I got several pats on the backs, and 'good jobs'. Suddenly, Christina was at my side, smiling.

"You did great, Sp- Patrick!" she quickly caught herself, "seriously, just wow!"

"Youse was watchin'?" I asked, now suddenly nervous as I tried to recap the game and my participation.

"Yeah, I got in trouble though," she laughed, reddening a little. "Well, see you!" she waved and skipped off to catch up with her friends. I felt each of my arms being caught up in an arm-link, and saw that PJ was on one side and Matt on the other, both grinning.

"Was she _flirting _with you?" Matt asked, eyes wide with excitement.

"No," I all but snapped, a little irked by the question, "she's always like dat."

PJ smirked. "Oh yeah, I forgot you were freeloading at her house."

"What're we talking about, guys?" some random kid came bouncing up, but PJ, Matt and I quickly went silent.

"This man huddle is over," PJ declared. We reached our gym lockers, and I struggled with the combo, as usual.

"Why don't you live with your own family, anyways?" Matt asked, easily completing his gym locker combo and flipping the small red door open.

"Can't," I hissed through clenched teeth, tightening my grip on my shirt as I pulled it off over my head. PJ elbowed Matt in the ribs, glaring.

"Ah, never mind." Matt mumbled, turning away and focusing on his locker.

"To be honest, though," PJ told me, shuffling through his things, "I'm glad you came to Mayville. You're a fun guy to be around."

"Tanks," I half-smirked, half-smiled at him, "youse both is great, too."

PJ and Matt continued to talk about other random topics, but I was thinking about one thing and one thing only.

_I wonder if I could get a basketball hoop to 1899?_

**!~!~!**

**Augh, I'm sorry that this can't be any longer! TT_TT It's just that the next chapter **_**needs**_** to be separate, because it's so important. Sorry again!**

**Oh, and if your curious on what the third thing that owls stand for is, it's fertility. XD Yeeeeaaah, would've been awkward for 'Tina to mention just then. X3**

**Anyhoo, please R&R! I love reviews! 83**

**Oh, and ****Abetterina****, if you're still out there, I miss your insightful reviews! Please come back! D=**

**~ Christina Conlon**


	16. Explanations

**Hmm, well, this story is… ending. **

**BUT WAIT! NOT YET! D8**

**Nooo, it still has a few chapters to go, don't worry! I'm just giving you guys a forewarning, because… well, I don't want to surprise you on the very last chapter. Seriously, though, don't freak out! I've still got many things to write about! Yes, many, many things… =3**

**Okay, I'm done now, so on with the shout-outs! =D**

**may-c, Lacey White, LucyOfNarnia:** Thanks so, so, SO much for reading! I'm glad you enjoyed! =D

**Firefly Conlon:** Yay, I'm a doll! XD NEWSIES SISTAHS UNITE!

**Austra:** Wow, perfect? I don't know if I would call it all that, but… thanks! =D Ah, I see you found out why The Cat's Pajamas chose the name they did! ;3 Thankies a bunches for reading!

**cybale:** Man-huddles are great… not that I would know. =P Cute and fluffy… like kittens! 8D Tee-hee, thanks for reading!

**MeggieMoo666:** I'll do my best to keep them together, promise! However, I'm not sure if- well, never mind. You'll have to read on to find out! ;D Thanks for reading! =)

**scratch conlon:** Thanks, I'm glad that the description wasn't too overpowering, y'know? Anhoo thanks a bunch for reading! =)

**And with that completed, let's get this chapter rolling! Please enjoy! =)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this story. I don't own Swiss Miss. I don't own Oreos. Heck, I don't even own this **_**computer**_**. Seriously, I'm an 8****th**** Grade student… pleez don't sue me.**

**!~!~!**

**Chapter 16 – Explanations**

_Christina/Spot_

When Spot and I returned home after a long day at school, I was in a particularly sour mood. Why? Because I had wimped out on telling him… again. At that moment, I really did _not _feel like even _looking_ at the former Newsie. We were walking into the house together, via the garage door, me slightly in the lead. I was through the door first; my brows furrowed deeply when I slammed the door behind me, right in Spot's face. He was unfazed by this, however, and it just irked me more when he calmly opened the door again, looking concerned.

"'Tina, youse okay?"

I growled and stormed into the living room, plopping down in the nearest seat and folding my arms childishly. I heard the floor creak under his weight as he made his way through the kitchen. I closed my eyes, attempting to calm myself.

_Please, Spot, don't come in here. Please, please, _please_ don't-_

He peeked around the corner cautiously, and then took a full step out from the kitchen.

"'Tina, youse can tell me what's botherin' youse." I let out an annoyed breath, my eyes still closed.

_Speak of the devil, _Spot took a seat next to me on his makeshift bed, looking at me with a sideways glance. I inhaled deeply, and let out a shaky breath, attempting to keep my voice from cracking. I sniffled loudly, my cold deciding to kick in at the worst possible moment.

"Spot," I began, gazing straight ahead blankly, "We need to talk." _ This is it. I'm going to tell him._

"I knows," he said quietly, grabbing my hand in his, his eyes so intent that I turned to face him. "Ise got so much to tell yas…"

"Spot, please, let me tell you something first," I pleaded, but he shook his head in determination.

"No, 'Tina, Ise gotta tell ya dis befoah I loose da strength ta," I gulped, my throat tightening. _That's just what I was going to say. _But already, the will was fading. I couldn't do it. So I just nodded mutely, giving him the indication to continue. He paused, thinking deeply, before finally speaking.

"When… when I tolds ya 'bout me comin' ta 2010, I left out paht o' da stoiry." I blinked the stinging tears. I had guessed as much…

"I… I told youse 'bout gettin' moidahed **(murdered)** by dem drunks," I gave a small nod, focusing chiefly on his story; I didn't want to miss a thing, "Well, dere was a goil wit me." I stiffened, and his grip tightening on my hand. "She died, right befoah I did. I saw it, her lifeless body. 'Er… her name was Luciel – Luciel Martin. Most of me boys called 'er Rosebud, even though she wasn't a Newsie. She jus' stayed in da lodgin' house, makin' food an' cleanin' stuff."

"Let me guess," I interrupted him, "she looked exactly like me." _This could be turning into one of those really cliché Fan Fics. _I groaned inwardly.

Spot gave me a strange look. "No… actually, youse look nuttin' like her."

I felt a blush creep across my cheeks. "I- oh."

"She had da most beautiful golden hair, it was really soft… an' her blue eyes were always shinin'. Her skin was very fair; not a single freckle. She was really tall, taller den me, an' she always smiled…"

At this point I tuned him out. Call me crazy, but I don't enjoy listening to everything I'm not. His eyes had a far-away look in them, almost wistful, and his grip on my hand had loosened so that it was just kind of… sitting there. I gingerly slid it out from under his, watching carefully for a reaction. He just kept on babbling. I blinked, causing the tears that I had managed to hold back to wet my eyelashes. My throat felt like a large, painful lump was stuck in it, but I didn't dare swallow, in fear that doing so would release a sob.

Finally, I felt a single tear slip down my left cheek, and my throat tightened so painfully that I was forced to hiccup. Spot cut off, and turned to face me. Embarrassed to be seen crying (trust me, my sob-face isn't very attractive), I stood up and began to speed-walk towards the kitchen.

"It's kinda cold out," I choked, "want some hot chocolate?"

"'Tina-"

"I'll take that as a yes, okay?"

I set the kettle to boil and pulled two packets of Swiss Miss hot chocolate out of the cupboard. I ripped one open and stared into the light brown, dusty mix inside. This is kinda how I had earned Spot's trust, that day he came. Who knew that instant hot chocolate could be the start of…?

Suddenly, an idea hit me, and a metaphorical light bulb went 'bing!' over my head.

That mysterious e-mail Emilee had received had been signed _Rosebud, L.M._

_Rosebud… Luciel's Newsie name. L.M.… Luciel Martin._

And then, there was that wacky dream-lady…

_Suddenly, a shadow flickered out from behind the tree, and a tall, slender girl wearing a beautiful wedding dress, and long, loosely curled blond hair that fell just past her shoulders, a few locks pulled back by a clip, took a step out from behind the trunk. Her face was hidden by shadows, and she stood under the tree, the branches billowing around her._

My eyes widened. Could it be that… that _girl _had been Luciel? But she was dead!

_Exactly._

I couldn't help it; I gasped out loud. Dead people were visiting me in dreams – yep, completely normal. I vaguely wondered why she wasn't in Heaven or… And why the heck did she promise to 'take him back safely'? Why did he even have to go back?

_The Strike._

Well, that was certainly one reason.

I was pulled from my thoughts as the kettle let out a deafening whistle. I pulled it off the burner and began to prepare the mugs of hot cocoa. I glanced up at the cupboard and noticed a pack of Oreos sitting on the top shelf. I reached for them. My fingers barely skimmed the foil wrapping.

_Aw, I'm too short for everything. _I lifted to my tippy-toes, and was able to grasp the very edges with my super-long (and totally natural!) nails. Suddenly, the lights flickered, and with a yelp of surprise I stumbled back, the Oreos falling to the floor with a dull 'thud'.

The lighting returned, and I saw Spot whip around the corner of the hall, a wild look in his eyes.

"'Tina!" he yelled, his gaze scanning the room franticly. "'Tina, youse okay?"

I stared at him for a second, questioning his sanity. "I… dropped a package of Oreos."

He visibly calmed, but still looked a little flustered (yes, Spot Conlon was _flustered_). "Oh. Well, Ise'll be in da livin' room." Then he left. Ba-da-bing ba-da-boom.

I gazed at the spot where he had been moments before, and then turned back around, doing a double-take at the sight before me. The empty packets of Swiss Miss had disappeared, and the mugs were nothing more than steaming cups of hot water. I searched for the box, my panic growing. What was going on? I'll admit, being so frantic might sound a little crazy, but you'd be on edge too if you had your crush's dead girlfriend visiting you in dreams.

I tumbled down the stairs, and gave a cry of surprise at the bottom.

Our nice wrap-around couch looked worn and dirty, with many rips and signs of poor care. My sister sat on the floor, playing with some Barbie dolls with missing limbs and ratty clothes. Our beautiful, wonderful, glorious flat-screen TV was gone, in its place an old-fashioned box TV sat, it's screen hardly bigger than my own head, and two crooked antenna sticking out from the top. The picture was fuzzy and in black-and white. Hannah Montana was singing a song, but her clothes lacked their usual sparkle, and she looked extremely tired.

"Ruthie," I wailed, running over to her. "What's going on? Where's our TV?"

My little sister looked up at me, huge bags under her eyes and dirt smudged across her face. Her skin seemed more tan than usual, and her hair was messy and unkempt.

"It's right over there," she told me, jerking a thumb in the direction of the… _thing._

"That's not…" I trailed off, feeling awfully confused. I whipped my gaze around the basement. Everything seemed so… dirty, so worn-out.

"Hey, Christina," Ruthie rasped, gazing up at me with big, pleading blue eyes. I hesitated.

"Y-yes…?"

"Can you please sew me another dress for Nolie?" she asked, holding up a black-haired Barbie with fat purple lips. One eye seemed to be scraped off, and her hair was a wild mess. I winced at the freaky doll, tears springing back into my eyes.

"I… I don't understand." I stammered. Ruthie gently set the doll back down, and held up a small yellow sundress with a red flower pattern. The outfit was obviously home-made, and looked like an old-fashioned chicken feed sack.

"I want one like this, only light blue," she explained. "Oh, and another beanie hat would be nice… if Mom can spare some dry rice, that is."

"Where is Mom, anyways?" I glanced around realizing that she wasn't here, like I thought she was. Ruthie shrugged.

"Probably shopping. Dad'll be home soon from the factory any minute now, though. Maybe he'll take us for a ride in the carriage!" she began to giggle excitedly.

"Wait, the factory? Carriage? What happened to our cars?"

Ruthie cocked her head. "Cars? Sis, I think you've fallen out of one too many trees. We don't own any _cars_, whatever those are."

"I don't… climb trees."

Ruthie let out a snort of laughter, clutching her sides. "Ha! Very funny, Christina, but you can't fool me. I've heard about your adventures during recess. Everyone's talking about how you beat Matt Monogram to the top of the old pine tree."

I began to back away. "W-wait a minute, Ruthie, this is just a dream. Just… just a dream." I spun around and whacked my head against the wall. Hard.

"Ow!" I whimpered, clutching my skull and sinking to the ground. "Owwie, ow, ouch-ouch!" _It's not a dream… Oh dear God, please help me._

"Might wanna go get an ice pack, Sis," I heard Ruthie call, but I was already scrambling up the stairs in a rush of pure panic. Once I was in the kitchen however, I felt a freezing-cold hand placed on my shoulder. Yes, it was cold, but somehow light, like a feather tickling my neck. I spun around, to come face-to-face with a furious-looking Luciel. I began to shriek, but she slapped another ghost-like hand across my mouth. So I just stood there, eyes wide as saucers and mind frozen in fear.

"This, Christina Turtle," the angry dead lady hissed, "is the result of Spot not returning!" Her hand left my face, and I blinked a few times before realizing what was happening.

"Please Luciel," I begged her, "I want my normal life back! The cars, the nice couch, the shiny TV! Please, change it back."

Luciel took a step away, her lip curled as she glared at me with piercing blue eyes. "I cannot alter this – only you can. Send him back to his own time."

I shook my head. "I can't… I'm sorry." And I really was; but I was also selfish. I saw Luciel's eyes soften.

"So am I," she murmured. "That you cannot accept this fate. The Strike has already begun, Christina. Spot must return and take up his role in it."

"So you want me to just _kill _him?" I asked indignantly. "Don't you care at all? It's easier said than done, Luciel. And y_ou're_ the one who says it; _I'm _the one who does it!"

A tear slid down her deathly white face. "If- if you cannot do this, then I will find another way. But mark my words, Christina Turtle, he _will _return. I will not let the entire world fall to pieces because of your selfishness." I hardened my gaze, and bit back what I thought was a hurtful retort. Instead, I just blinked back the tears.

She was gone.

I stumbled across the kitchen, sinking into one of the seats at the table. Spot couldn't go back. He just couldn't. Sure, I'd be living in a world without cars, or a nice TV, or a Wii…

I froze.

No Wii?

_That boy as got to go._

I leapt up from my seat, paused, and plopped back down. Aw, who was I kidding? I could never let him go back. I cared for him too much.

I lo…

**!~!~!**

It was a normal day for Emilee Milner; the sun was shining (where are my sunglasses?), the birds were chirping (_so_ annoying), Christina was carrying a parasol-

Wait, hold up. Christina was carrying a _parasol_?

The 7th Grader jogged up to her friend, who was entering the schoolyard, humming a jolly tune and grinning. The happiness didn't seem to reach her eyes, but that wasn't what bothered Emilee. As the girl did a half-skip across the pavement, she twirled a frilly, lace-covered parasol behind her, shading her cheery face from the sun.

"Christina…?" Emilee squinted, wondering if all the late-night computer playing was getting to her. Christina stopped, waving daintily with one hand.

"Good day to you, Emilee! How's life?"

Emilee edged over to her friend's side warily. "It's… good. Um, why all the…?" she motioned animatedly to the parasol.

Christina sighed, drooping dejectedly. "Can I ask you a question Emilee?"

"Uh, sure."

"Do my freckles look any fainter today?"

**!~!~!**

**I'm not sure if the ending line is funny or not, and I don't care either way. I hope you enjoyed!**

**Many things were explained in this chapter, which hopefully makes up for the fluffy filler ones before it.**

**Two more chapters, and then we're done! OH NOES! =O**

**Please review! =3**

**Planning the sequel,**

**~ Christina Conlon**


	17. Visits from a Twig and a Rosebud

**Hey everyone, Christina Conlon here with a new chapter! =D **

**Just so you all know, school starts up for me THIS WEDNESDAY, so things might get a bit hectic for me soon. However, I'll try and finish this story before then, and get started on the sequel ASAP! If I do a chapter a day, I'll be able to finish this story, plus get the prologue of the sequel up before school starts! Go me! XD**

**And I'd just like to apologize for the technical difficulties in the previous chapter's Author's Note. For whatever bizarre reason, when I uploaded Chapter 16, the shout-outs were left behind. So, I re-uploaded it and I think everything's okay! If you wanna see what I had to say, go check 'em out! Otherwise, on with the shout-outs! =D**

**cybale:** If you're still confused, hopefully this chapter will explain a few things! =)

**Abetterina:** *sobs of pure joy* ABETT! You're back! Augh, I'm so happy! I hope you're okay! I missed your wonderful reviews! ='D Welcome back! And most of all, thanks SO much for reading! =)

**Austra:** What will happen next? Read on to find out! =D Oh, and please don't die! It's easier to read when you're alive. ;)

**MeggieMoo666:** Yeah, sorry for the confusion. And don't worry, Spot and Christina's adventures aren't going to end anytime soon. =)

**Firefly Conlon:** To answer your questions: read the following chapter! =D And yush, youse shall be in the sequel! =D

**On with the story, ye scabbahs! ;D**

**!~!~!**

**Chapter 17 – Visits from a Twig and a Rosebud**

_Spot/Christina_

To be honest, I was just as freaked out by the house changing as Christina was. In fact, it wasn't just the house, or even just the people inside it – the whole _world _had changed. Christina had a screaming fit when the computer keyboard disappeared right from under her fingers, and I almost broke a lamp when I realized that I had to get up out of the recliner to change the TV channel.

At first, neither of us had any idea why we were so irritable, but eventually, it dawned on us that we hadn't been getting a lot of sleep, and it was taking a toll. You see, even if it had only been two days since the world had 'down-graded', theoretically we hadn't had a good night's sleep in a long, long time. It's confusing and hard to explain, but once the world had changed, so did our entire lives – past, present, and possibly even future.

_Future. _That was the reason for all this mess – because I had come to the future. And now, I had to get out of it. If I did, then maybe, just maybe, things would go back to normal. Then Christina and all her family would be able to live good, fruitful lives. And that's all I wanted; for Christina to be happy.

It killed me even to _think _of being away from her, but if that's what it took to return her back to her usually happy self, then so be it.

I _hated_ who she was now; a tired, snappy, unfocused girl. Sure, she always wanted to sleep in, tended to complain (a lot), and was a veteran at day-dreaming, but now she just seemed so… unhappy.

I sighed, flopping down on my makeshift bed (which had become rather uncomfortable during The Change). I had just gotten back from my part-time job, which I had apparently had since I was twelve years old, according to Mrs. Turtle. Never thought I'd say it, but I'd rather be selling newspapers than working at a daycare with a flirty co-worker and snot-nosed kids. I eyed a nearby oil lamp; it looked so… breakable. It was a tempting way to let off some steam.

Before I had a chance to move, however, Christina came bursting through the door, her eyes glistening and her breath ragged, as though she wanted to scream really, really loud.

"'Tina, what's wrong?" I asked, sitting up. Though I had used my calmest voice possible, she still let out a high-pitched screech, plopping down on the torn, sandy-colored recliner.

"Stupid, freaking, crapbags of-" she cut off, taking in rapid gasps of breath. I got up and carefully crept over, sitting next to her. I put one arm around her shoulders, and she leaned in with a loud sniffle.

"What is it?" I asked her again, watching her in concern. She mumbled something angrily under her breath. There was a pause, and then she sighed.

"Spot… I'm… this isn't going to be easy to say, okay?" she turned her head away, almost guiltily. I frowned.

"Youse can tell me," I told her quietly. She nodded hesitantly.

"Well, y'see, I'm- just don't get mad at me, okay?"

"Okay…"

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Well, it's just that… this is hard, you know. I'm not sure how to tell you."

"It's 'kay, 'Tina."

"I'm- this isn't my fault, just so you know."

"Ise won't know until ya tell mese."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. Okay, I'm officially going to tell you now, okay?"

"Okay."

"…I… remember, you promised!"

"I did. Promise."

"Ankle shake that you won't get mad?"

I sighed melodramatically. "Ankle shake, 'Tina."

"You can _never_ break an ankle shake, you know."

"You're stalling."

"I am not! I just wanted you to know that."

"'Tina, tell me."

"Fine, fine, fine! I'm… I'm… remember, you can never break an ankle sha-"

"Jus' tell me!"

She recoiled, looking royally ticked. "Don't rush me, Conlon!"

Now it was my turn to flinch. She had started calling me Conlon only recently, when she was extremely mad and wanted me to know it.

Christina took another deep breath. "Okay, okay. What I was going to tell you was…" she frowned, looking confused and frustrated. "Ugh, I can't remember!"

I groaned, flopping back in exasperation. There was a pause, and then she clapped in triumph.

"Oh, yes! My dear Spot Conlon, I'm engaged."

I leapt to my feet, shocked and extremely confused. "En-engaged? Tah who?"

She shot me an irritated glance. "You ankle shook! Don't yell at me."

I furrowed my brow, beginning to pace. "Ise ain't yellin' at youse, 'Tina. I jus' wanna know who da scum is."

Christina looked down at her lap, twiddling her thumbs. "I haven't met him yet, to be honest. Mom and Dad set me up with him… something about money. I didn't hear everything I had to say; too busy making a dramatic exit. His name is Fredegar Peterson." She paused, looking thoughtful. "I wonder if he's anything like Fredegar 'Fatty' Bolger…"

"'Tina, not nows!" I snapped, glaring. I wasn't really angry at her, but at her parents and stupid Fredegar Peterson. Who cares if he has money? I had… my cane! And Brooklyn… at least, I used to. Groaning again, I sunk onto my bed.

"Spot… I'm… I'm sorry. I want to get out of this place… I wanna get away." She choked back a sob, which resulted in a loud hiccup.

I sighed. "Ise sorry too, 'Tina. I jus'…" I paused. _This is it. Time to forget about Luciel and move on. I'm gonna tell her._

I took a deep breath. "'Tina?"

She turned to face me, her dusty, freckled face streaked with tears. "Y-yeah?"

"I lo-"

There was an unexpected, loud knocking at the door, causing both of us to face it. My courage faded, replaced by defeat. What did it matter if I told her, anyways? She was getting married to… Fredegar Peterscum.

Christina slowly rose, padding towards the door. The minute she opened it, I smelled trouble. A well-groomed young man stepped through the doorway, looking around in disgust.

"Is this the residence of Christina Turtle?" he asked.

"That's me," Christina said, shifting uncertainly. The man's eyes widened.

"_You're _my fiancé?" he asked crossly, looking her up and down. "I was expected someone… lovelier."

Christina narrowed her eyes. "And I was expecting a hobbit. But you wanna know what? We don't always get what we want in this life."

I couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter. Before The Change, Christina never would've said that; she wouldn't be brave enough. But the new Christina; the new, easily irritated Christina, would spit back a snappy response without a second thought. And as funny as it was to watch, I desperately wanted the original version of her back.

Fredegar's gaze whipped towards me, and his eyes widened. "And who might this be?"

Christina followed his gaze, "Oh, him? That's Patrick 'Spot' Conlon."

Peterscum smirked. "Spot… just like a dog. How fitting."

I growled, rising from my seat. I towered over the little snot by almost a foot, but he just rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Oh, please. Down doggy! Sit; stay."

I took a threatening step forward, but Christina quickly sidled between us, shoving me back onto my bed.

"Listen, Fredegar," she snarled, her eyes blazing, "I don't know if you're always this stupid, or just making a special effort today, but you should really shut your mouth before I set my 'dog' loose on you; he can get pretty vicious."

Fredegar shot me a nervous glance, and I narrowed my eyes menacingly. He hurriedly turned back to Christina, regaining his tight, impassive structure.

"Listen…" he drawled, looking quiet bored, "I came her on behalf of your parents; they wanted me to ask you out to dinner this evening. They seemed like such nice people," he swept his gaze over her once more, "I wonder what happened to you."

Christina let out a small groan. "Fine, I'll come. But only for my parents."

"Excellent," he held up his hand. "May I?"

"Uh… in a minute," Christina stammered, and shoved him out the battered door before slamming it shut. Her hand remained pressed against it for a few beats, and then she turned to face me, a pained look on her face.

"I don't want to do this, Spot." She whispered. I felt anger boil over inside me, and swore under my breath. Unfortunately, Christina caught it, and wiped away her tears, looking annoyed.

"I really wish you'd stop doing that," she told me, an exhausted edge to her voice. "Can't you do something about it?"

"Like what?" I grumbled, shifting.

"I dunno… come to church with my family this Sunday, instead of staying at home. Please Spot; I want you to fix that nasty habit of yours. Going to church can change you… it'll touch your heart in a way you never imagined." There was a pause, and when I didn't reply, she uttered a small, "I have a date." Before scuttling out the door.

I let out an angry 'ugh', curling up under the covers of my bed. If I could just go back to the future, then Christina's old life would return, and she wouldn't have to marry stupid Fredegar Peterscum. Even if I was gone, and may never see her again… at least she wouldn't be in the arms of another man.

_If only I knew how… _I thought, gazing at the back of the couch. Then, an idea hit me, an idea I hadn't really tried before. Slowly, I closed my eyes, and folded my hands, just like I had seen Christina do.

_Um, okay… lesse what to say, what to say… 'Hey there, God!' No, that doesn't work. 'Yo, God! King of Brooklyn here!' No, that doesn't work either. 'Hiya, God, it's Spot, Christina's freeloader!' …Now that's just silly._

I let out an agitated growl, my eyes snapping open. This was hopeless. I felt so… weird; talking to someone I couldn't see. I sighed, tapping my fingers rhythmically against my pillow. Finally, just as sleep was washing over me, I felt the words form in my mind.

_Dear God… if there is a God. Please help me find a way to fix everything._

**!~!~!**

I sighed, my hand hanging limply in Fredegar's vice-like grip. He was walking me home, under the shining stars and moon, which was just beginning to wane. Should be romantic, right? Wrong. I looked up at him sadly.

_I wanted a hobbit…_

"Christina darling, are you alright?"

I stuck out my tongue in distaste. "You can cut the whole 'darling' thing. Just call me Christina."

"Very well, _Christina_." He hissed my name as though he still believed in cooties. Of course, I wouldn't be all that surprised if he still did. "I will ask you again; are you alright?"

"As fine as I can be, walking with you," I grumbled, glaring at the cracked sidewalk, strewn with dead leaves and pebbles.

"I must remind you that I am not very fond of you, either," Fredegar sneered, shooting me a sidelong glance.

"Fine by me."

Fredegar let out a tired sigh, as though he were attempting to tutor a bratty Kindergartener. "Tell me, do you… care, for Mr. Conlon?"

"Who, Spot? Of course I do. We're great friends." No way was I telling him how much I admired the former Newsie.

"Yes, yes, of course you are. Remember to keep it that way; we're getting married."

I groaned. "Don't remind me. And it's not for another three years, Freddy. That gives me and Spot plenty of time to elope." I winced. _I didn't mean to slip THAT one out!_

Fortunately, my date was focusing on his newly-given nickname. "Why must you call me Freddy?" he questioned.

I shrugged. "I don't _have_ to. But Fredegar is too long, and I'm a pretty lazy person when it comes to saying people's names."

He decided to ignore me (how boring), and merely said, "Oh, here we are at your house." He led me up the front stoop, and opened the door for me. I entered, and the turned around to find him still standing there, looking quite bored.

"Well, are you coming?" Seriously dude, I wasn't going to stand there all night! Fredegar peeked at my worn-out house and shook his head.

"I best be going now," he said primly.

"Oh, so soon?" I said scathingly, "I was just going to poison the tea."

He recovered from the comment and shot me an aggravated look. "You're very clever, Miss Christina. Good day." And with that, the door slammed.

"Good riddance," I muttered, spinning on my heel. I glanced at a soundly-sleeping Spot before stumbling into my own room, suddenly feeling very weary. Everything was happening so fast…

_I want answers, _I groaned inwardly, falling onto my bed. The minute my head hit the pillow, I was in Dream Land.

This is weird, because it usually takes me at least half an hour to fall asleep…

**!~!~!**

_Just my luck! _I wailed, watching the pristine form of Luciel glide towards me. Once again, a shimmering willow tree stood in the distance, an unearthly glow illuminating it. The rest of the surroundings were pitch black. Strangely enough, I was unable to tear my gaze away from Luciel, who was now standing in front of me. She looked less… cold, than before; less unhappy.

"Christina," she breathed. I shivered.

"Y-yeah?"

She looked down at me in pity. Now, normally I would be angered at something like that, because I'd been so irritated and confused since The Change, but I felt calm and serene, gazing up at the beautiful young woman.

"Please don't tell that he has to return," I begged, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. Luciel gave me a sad smile.

"I will not," she promised. "I just wanted to apologize. I have been… less than friendly, as of late."

_Dang right!_

Luciel looked away, pursing her lips nervously. "Let me explain from the beginning. Am I correct to assume that Spot had told you about his death, and mine?"

I gave a small nod.

"Good. That night, I… I died first. Before Spot did. I did my best to keep him alive, but I couldn't. So, once I was… gone, I decided that it would be my duty to protect him." She glanced at me, her eyes watering.

"But… he _still _died, even with my new abilities as a spirit. So, I gathered all my strength, and- and I sent him to the future. I was unable to choose the location, but I thought that as long as he was alive, I could be happy."

Her head turned to face me, her eyes glistening, and there was an edge of remorse in her voice. "What I did not expect, was him meeting you."

My breath hitched. _Neither did I._

She took in a shaky breath before continuing. "At first, I was angry. I wanted him to love me. But, after a while I realized that… he would never love me the way I loved him. He might've _thought_ that he loved me, but it was all an illusion. A false impression. A fantasy. A chimera. It wasn't _real_, Christina." She shook her head, sparkling tears flying from her face, falling like crystals into the darkness. There was a moment of silence, and then Luciel gave a small smile, looking up and into my face.

"Now, Christina, I want to do everything I can to make _you_ two happy together. I am no longer angry. I just… want Spot to be at peace. Like I am, now."

"Then why does he have to go back?" I choked out, tears filling my eyes and threatening to spill over, "Luciel, why?"

She smiled sadly. "It will not be forever, Christina Turtle. You must trust me."

And then she was gone. I was floating in darkness, willing myself to wake.

**!~!~!**

_Wheah am I? _I glanced around in confusion. A single willow tree stood a good few feet away, an odd, greenish-white light glowing all around it. I wanted to go towards it, but my feet refused to move.

Suddenly, a familiar figure came ambling out from behind the tree, looking just as confused as I felt.

"Wheah in all o' New Yoik am I?" the person wondered aloud.

"Twig!" I called, waving furiously. "Twig, ovah heah!"

My second-in-command whirled around to face me, his eyes widening in shock. "Spot?" he squeaked out, his curly blond hair bouncing as he took a tentative step towards me. "Spot, is dat youse?"

"It's me, Twig," I said, feeling a little choked up. "It's me." It felt so dang _good_ to see a friendly face from Brooklyn. I had forgotten how much I'd missed them – all of them.

"Oh, Spot, youse gotta be heah!" he was racing up to me, and skidding to a stop inches away. "Wait, youse is dead!"

"I ain't dead," I smirked, folding my arms. "I'm as alive as youse. It's a long story, Twig, but I'm in da future!"

Twig's eyes widened. "An' Ise ain't dreamin'?" he breathed.

"Nah, youse is," I told him, "but so is I… wese is talkin' togeddah in our dreams."

Twig cocked his head. "Well, alright, if youse says so, Spot." Suddenly, his eyes doubled in size, and he began to pace excitedly. "Spot, Spot! Youse gotta be heah! Jack Kelly, over in 'Hattan, ya know? Well, he started dis Strike! An', an'… one of your Boidies told me dat he is comin' ovah wit some boys tah talk tah youse about it."

I grumbled angrily under my breath. "Twig, Ise gotta get back tah youse! Back tah Brooklyn! Back tah 1899! Can youse tink of any ways tah get me back?"

Twig shrugged. "I dunno Spot, dat's a tough one… how'd youse get tah da future?"

I paused. "I… died. Why?"

Twig was now gazing at me, completely serious. "Den maybe dat's da way foah youse ta get back, Spot." Then he frowned. "I heah Jenkin's ringin' da Wake Up bell. If youse come back to us, Spot, den Ise'll know dat wese really talked."

Then he opened his mouth to say something else, but before he had the chance, the entire scene vanished, and my eyes flew open.

**!~!~!**

**Okay dokay, one more chapter to go, and then I'll upload the prologue to the sequel! SQUEAL! 8D I'm getting pretty excited!**

_**IMPORTAINT**_**: I have a poll up in my profile, so go take it! I want to know what you guys think will happen. ;D And please hurry, because… I wanna finish this story ASAP! =)**

**I want a hobbit!**

**~ Christina Conlon**


	18. Please Don't Go Away

**Well folks, here it is… the last installment to The Future is Calling. The final ka-blam. The closing act. The concluding scene. All loose ends will be tied together today, right now. Yes, ladies and gentlemans, this is... ****the ultimate chapter****.**

…

**OKAY! Time for shout-outs! Wootles! XD**

**Firefly Conlon:** Trust me, I'll find a hobbit. Preferably one with a lollipop. And two big, blue puppy-dog eyes. Go, Bagginses! XD Anyhoo, thanks for reviewing! NEWSIES SISTAHS UNITE!

**Austra:** Aw, thaaaaaaank yooooouu! XD I don't know if I'd call this lump of junk perfect, but I'm glad that you enjoy it! =)

**Lacey White:** Thanks for reviewing, and I'm glad that you enjoyed! ;D The sequel is going to be up and running soon, so go read that once you're finished with this chapter! Thanks again! =D

**Abetterina:** Hey, no harm no foul! I don't think that calling them 'plain' is offensive at all! I personally wouldn't use that word to describe them, but then again… I'm not normal. O_o I'd probably call them… slow. 'Cuz they were; slow. Little to no plot movement. But amen for fluffy goodness! XD Thanks for such perceptive reviews, and I'm glad that it was among your faves chapter-wise! =3

**Caroline Conlon:** _Danke_! =D Youse is da greatest, doll! Tanks foah reviewin'! (random mix of German and New Yoik, go me!)

**Well, I don't want to keep you any longer, so… enjoy. =)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, Spot, hobbits, or any of the candy mentioned in this story. Don't sue me, pwease! =3**

**P.S, The sequel will be out soon! So please keep an eye out for 'What Time Cannot Erase'! Also, I'll be adding an extra 'fun' chapter to this story, filled with juicy tidbits and deleted scenes, so keep an eye out for that too! ;)**

**!~!~!**

**Chapter 18 – Please Don't Go Away**

_Spot/Christina_

I awoke from my dream with a jolt, startled and confused. Was what Twig suggested really true? I had to _die_ to go back? I sat up, rubbing my temples and yawning. The sun had not yet risen, but a few birds were singing shrilly. I let out a small groan; I needed peace and quiet to think, thank-you-very-much.

At that moment, all I could think about was getting back to my Newsies. They _needed_ me! I was certain that if I returned, everything in 2010 would go back to normal. I hadn't made Twig my second for nothing; he knew what he was talking about.

I missed my Newsies, the docks, my throne of crates, the smell of a fresh newspaper, still warm from the press. I looked down at my upturned palms. The ink stains had all but faded. My hands began to shake.

I _had_ to get back.

**!~!~!**

"Remind me again why I'm stuck shopping with you three?" I whined, trailing just behind Matt and PJ, who were walking side-by-side down Wal-Mart's entrance. Spot – ahem, _Patrick_ – was somewhere behind me, the slowpoke.

"Because you begged us for ten whole minutes," Matt called over his shoulder. "Oh, _please_, Patrick's greatestest friends in the whole wide world! _Please_ take me with you! _Pretty_ please with cherries, pineapple, and _ferrets_ on top!"

"Oh, shut up," I snapped, glaring. "I'm only tagging along to avoid another date with Freddy. Hey," I paused, looking around, "I wonder if they have hobbits for sale?"

PJ glared, and threw his hands up in the air. "Enough with the hobbit crap! We get it; short people with hairy feet are huggable."

I froze, a slow smile spreading across my face as I gazed down at PJ. His eyes widened as realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.

"Don't even think about it, Christina," he warned, but it was too late. I had already jumped him, giggling uncontrollably. We both fell with a _thud_ to the ground, thanks to the extra hundred pounds, me squishing him in a deadly bear-hug of obsessive-ness.

"No!" came his muffled cry. "I don't have hairy feet!"

"You're uncharacteristically happy today," Matt commented, ignoring PJ's pleas for mercy.

I did a little tut-tut with my tongue. "Such a big word, Matt. Careful, or people might get used to you sounding smart." I paused to let his death-glare settle in without effect, before continuing. "Besides, it's a long story."

There was no way I'd be able to explain it to them. Luciel didn't hate me anymore, and she was supporting Spot and I with her Sci-Fi powers! My grin widened at the thought, but then fell into a look of confusion. My grip on PJ loosened, and he wriggled out, muttering grouchily under his breath.

"Patrick?" I called out, watching the boy head towards the automatic sliding doors that read 'exit'. "Where're you going?"

Spot turned at the sound of his voice, a dazed look on his face.

"Ise gotta go shop foah… uddah tings." He replied vaguely.

"Oooh!" I scrambled up, brushing off my knees and buttocks. "I'll come with you!"

"No," Spot said a little too quickly, "youse stay here wit Matt an' PJ."

I frowned. "Oh… well, okay." He spun around, the cracked glass doors sliding open to allow passage.

"But don't come crying to me if you get lost!" I screamed at his retreating form. When he didn't react, I let out a growl of frustration, spinning around to face Matt and PJ. I blinked a few times, confused and, yes, slightly stunned.

"To the book section," I murmured faintly, before walking down a random isle.

**!~!~!**

I scanned the back of the book, before shaking my head and setting it back. I just couldn't get it out of my head; Spot _never_ went out by himself, unless it was to go to work (Megan Slope was his co-worker, lucky him). We did _everything_ together – he hardly left my side, and vice versa. Now, suddenly, he had just walked away, coolly brushing me off.

_Didn't even tell me where he was going,_ I thought grouchily, shuffling along down the isle. _Stupid twit…_

After a while of more browsing, I ended up heading to the checkout without anything. While I was there, I snatched up an extra-large pack of beef jerky, two King-Sized Kit-Kat bars, ten Reese's Peanut Butter cups, a pack of Skittles, and some gum. I handed it all to the cashier, grinning broadly as I pulled a giant wad of cash out of my pocket. One good thing about being engaged to Fredegar; money, and lot's of it.

Of course, a gold-tipped cane and red suspenders were worth more than all the money in the world.

As I forked a ten-dollar bill to the cashier, I noticed Matt and PJ cautiously exiting the store.

"Oi!" I shouted, leaping up and down animatedly, "Where're ya going?"

The two exchanged a glance. "We're ditching you," Matt said slowly.

"Oh… well, okay then." I grinned and waved. "Have fun storming the castle!"

The two boys waved hurriedly and scampered out the door, ignoring my slightly-less-than-sane remarks.

"Here," the cashier handed me a worn paper bag. I took it, thanking her, and skipped out the door.

"Lunch, lunch, lunch…" I sang merrily, swinging the bag, ignoring where I was going. Bad idea. Next thing I know, I'm lying flat on my back, an unknown person standing over me.

"Oh, sorry Mister, I didn't mean to-" I cut off when I saw who it was. "Oh, it's just you," I grumbled, sitting up and crossing my arms childishly.

"Good day, Miss Christina," Fredegar replied dryly, extending a hand. I ignored it, picking up an indiscriminate leaf from the sidewalk and placed it in his palm. He recoiled, looking disgusted and annoyed. Of course, everything about me disgusted and annoyed him, so it was no skin off my nose.

"I was just looking for you," he said in his usual hoity-toity voice. "I would like to ask for your-" he grimaced, "_presence_, at lunch this afternoon."

I shook my head, grabbing my bag. "Nuh-uh; I've already got my lunch. I'd hate to let all these yummy foods go to waste."

Fredegar leaned in, peering at the bag skeptically. "Really. And what is in it, exactly?"

I didn't reply, but settled myself more comfortably into the sidewalk, digging a Reese's cup out of my bag and popping it into my mouth. Fredegar raised a reproachful eyebrow.

"You did not take the rapper off."

I immediately spit it back out into my cupped hands. "Blech! Yuck! Blah!" I spluttered for a bit before recovering and gingerly unwrapping it, ignoring the salvia. I grinned impishly up at my fiancé.

"This is super-duper yucky Freddy, you know that? I've got this plastic wrapper taste in the back of my throat! But you wanna know what? It's a-okay with me, because I can just wash it down with snot!"

Fredegar began to back away, looking horrified and a little green in the face. "Yes, well, you… enjoy yourself, Miss Christina. Good day." And with that he was off, speed-walking down the sidewalk with as much dignity as possible. I giggled, and, with my mouth full of choco-peanut butter goodness, mumbled one simple word.

"Success!"

**!~!~!**

I wished that Christina could come with me, but she couldn't. The task seemed a hundred times harder without her beside me, but if she had known what I was about to buy at that moment, she never would've let me go. I rolled the bright red suspenders off my shoulders, letting them fall limply to my sides.

I walked up the small corner shop on the edge of town. The bright yellow taxi drove off down the road, the driver with an unsure look in his eye. I glanced up at the worn sign dangling above the door, hesitating. Finally, I gathered up my King-o'-Brooklyn courage and stepped in.

No cheery bell jingle-jangled to announce my arrival; no plump, rosy-faced lady was at the desk to greet me. No colorful, intriguing products lined the walls, begging you to buy them. In fact, the entire shop was for the most part bare, with cracked concrete walls and large, rusty pipes jutting out from the floor and hanging from the ceiling.

In the back sat a lanky man, with a scruffy chin, and thick gray hair hanging limply from his head. A crooked cigarette was jammed between his yellowed teeth, and a Cheshire-cat grin spread across his face as I cautiously crept in.

"'Ey kid," he croaked, rising from his seat with a grunt. "Ain't you a bit young tah be in a store like dis?"

I shot him a stony glare. "Listen, I ain't one tah mess around. Do youse want business or not?"

He smirked. "'Course I do. But da question is, runt, are youse worth me business?"

I held his gaze coolly for a moment, before reaching into the back pocket of my pants and pulling out a hundred dollars. One good thing about that Fredegar Peterscum; money. And lot's of it.

But a freckled face and a lop-sided grin was worth more than all the money in the world.

The man's eyes widened in brief surprise, but he quickly fell back into an impassive stare.

"Right this way, Mistah…?" He trailed off, glancing at me over his shoulder expectantly as he led me farther into the shop. I pulled out another fifty bucks, stretching it out so that he could see it clearly, my eyebrows raised. He smirked again.

"Youse is one of us, Mistah Jones." he stopped in front of a small pile of boxes. He searched the stack, mumbling to himself so quietly that even I couldn't understand his babbling. Finally, he pulled a box out of the middle, causing a few more to come toppling down. The contents spilled onto the floor with loud clatters, and my eyes widened.

It was just what I wanted.

"Here ya go," he mumbled around his cigarette, handing me the item I had been searching for. I tossed it from one hand to the next, feeling its weight. I gripped the handle, and pressed lightly on the trigger. I glanced up, handing him a hundred-dollar bill. He glared.

"You promised a hundred fifty!" he hissed. I waved the object in his face.

"It's empty," I stated coolly. He grumbled a bit more under his breath and pulled a small box out of his pocket, handing it to me reluctantly.

"Here're da 'lets, now scram."

I tucked my purchases deep in my pockets, and handed him the last of my money, before sauntering towards the door. I opened it, and prepared to leave, when he spoke again.

"Hey." I turned my head, gazing at him unblinkingly.

"Nice doin' business witcha, Mistah Jones," he smirked, jamming his hands into his pockets. I patted my own pockets and smirked back. Then, with a curt nod, I left.

**!~!~!**

After I had enjoyed my deliciously unhealthy lunch on the sidewalk, I headed home and crashed on Spot's makeshift bed. I sighed and closed my eyes; peace and quiet. But all tranquility was shattered and never repaired when the door flew open, and Spot shuffled through, wringing his hat nervously. I glanced up as he sat at the foot of the bed, gently moving my feet aside.

"You need something?" I asked crossly. I had long since gotten over him abandoning me with his friends at Wal-Mart, but I felt like being mad.

He sucked in a breath. "'Tina, I need tah talk tah youse."

"Uh-huh?" I mumbled, rolling over onto my stomach and picking invisible lint off the pillow.

"Could youse… come sit by me?" Now he sounded _really_ nervous; it was so… so un-Spot-like that I was pretty much shocked into obeying. I sat up with a jerk, bumping against him briefly to balance myself.

"Okay, I'm ready," I sighed. "Shoot."

It took him a moment, but he eventually was able to turn and look me straight me in the eye.

"'T-Tina…" he began slowly. "I found a way to get back. Ya know, to 1899."

I couldn't help it; I gasped. _No, this isn't possible! He's not supposed to figure out! How can this be happening?_

"I- I'm sorry," I whispered. "I meant to tell you, I really did…"

Spot squinted in confusion. "What? 'Tina, Ise had a dream, an' me second – Twig Douger, you'd like him – from Brooklyn talked tah me. He figured it all out."

I froze, my face reddening in realization. _He doesn't know that I know. I'm still innocent._

"I- oh."

Spot shifted. "'Tina… I've decided tah… go back."

I blinked, totally and utterly clueless.

"What?" I asked, letting out a wry laugh. "Spot, you can't be going back. I don't… I don't want you to." I glanced down at my hands, feeling ashamed for laughing at him.

Spot grabbed my hand. "'Tina, please understand. Me Newsies need me. New York needs me… Da _world_ needs me. It ain't easy, but youse gotta trust me."

"But what if you don't make it back," I choked, hot tears filling my eyes. "What if you just… die? You can't die, Spot, you can't leave me!"

Fortunately, he didn't seem to realize that he had never mentioned _how_ exactly he would return. He just grasped both of my hands in his, lifting them up and gazing into my eyes. Those piercing blue eyes…

"Please 'Tina, please trust me." He begged, a stonily pleading look set on his face. I shook my head, screwing my eyes shut as though I could block out reality.

"You can't leave," I insisted desperately, "You can't leave…"

"Ise gotta, 'Tina, jus-"

"No!" I shouted, shaking my head and snapping my eyes open to stare at him through the blurry tears. "You can't just go!"

"'Tina-"

"I'm in love with you!" I cried suddenly, my voice cracking. I felt my lower lip quiver. "I love you, Spot Conlon."

Spot stared at me for a moment; he just stared, no emotion. Then he grabbed my hands and pulled me to my feet. He quietly murmured, "C'mon," and lead me out the door. The snow was crunchy and cold, soaking through my socks and pricking icily at my feet. The ice on the roof was just beginning to melt, and the rain from that morning was still there, in frozen little puddles. I know, raining in February, it's weird. But that's what happened.

Spot took me down to the sidewalk, and then spun around, his hands resting firmly on my shoulder. I looked up at him, tears tipping my lashes and pooling around my eyes. His eyes were soft, and sad. He gave me a quick kiss on my forehead, and I lowered my head at his touch. He pulled away reluctantly, blinking slowly. Then, he used on hand to reach into his pocket. My eyes widened in distress at what he pulled out.

A gun.

_Oh dear God, he's got a gun._

"Christina?" he spoke my name quietly, and I peeked up at him with big, teary eyes.

He raised the gun, setting it softly against his temple.

"I love you too."

I remember screaming his name as the gunshot echoed across the street. I lurched forward, holding onto him tightly, as though we being pressed together would somehow stop the inevitable. His form slid from my grasp, falling with a dull _thud_. I fell to my knees beside him, my palms pressed against the sidewalk. I just crouched there, sobbing as loud as my lungs would allow. When I looked up, sniffling and wiping my eyes, the tears still flowing, my heart skipped a beat.

He wasn't there. The body was gone; no blood, no gun, no Spot. I crawled forward, sitting on the exact location where he had been moments before, and cried some more. It just didn't seem to stop; even after I had long since dried my eyes, the sobs still came. I just couldn't stop. No one else was there. It was just me. I felt so alone. I tried to pray, but I just couldn't think of what to say. So I just cried, silently and wordlessly pouring my heart out to God.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, I was able to shakily stand up. I wobbled back to the house, where my Mom was in the living room, reading her Bible and drinking some tea. She stood instantly on my arrival, her face white and her eyes wide.

"Goodness Christina, what happened?" She asked, hurrying over to envelope me in a much-needed hug. I sniffled and sobbed onto her shoulder.

"He's gone, Mom," I choked out. "He's really gone."

**!~!~!**

The last thing I saw was her face. Her desperate, tear-streak face. Her beautiful, freckled face.

There had been little pain when I returned. My head seemed to explode, and my heart just shriveled up and died. I had been torn; torn when I realized how to return, torn when I bought the gun; torn when I admitted my love for her. But I had made my decision. And Spot Conlon never changes his mind. Ever.

Right?

The first thing I heard were the gulls cawing overhead. I blinked wearily, my strength slowly returning. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. I was draped across my thrown of crates. I looked around blearily. Where the heck was I? What was going on? Where was Christina? And why did it smell of seawater?

_Seawater._ My eyes snapped open, all senses suddenly alert. Could it be…?

_It worked. It actually worked!_ I let out a whoop of pure joy, pumping my fist in the air. I was back! Brooklyn was mine again! I could wake up early and smell ink, not wet cat. I could swear all I wanted and no one would scold me. I could… I could… I could do anything I wanted. I was _back_.

I heard a cry of surprise from below. I leaned over to see one of my younger Newsies, Dots, gaping up at me was though I had just risen from the- okay, maybe I had.

"Sp-Spot?" he squeaked. I smirked, folding my arms.

"Go spread da news dat I'm back, got dat?" he just nodded and scampered off before I had a chance to give him another order. Not that I had anything else in mind.

"Goin' somewheah, Kelly?" the voice of Harvey asked threateningly from somewhere along the docks. My head snapped up. _Jacky-boy?_

Sure enough, good ol' Jack Kelly comes strolling down the docks. I can see him from a good ways away, but I wait to speak until he's rounded the corner and stepped up to my thrown. Without sparing a glance at his two companions – though I watch them out of the corner of my eye – I let a leisurely, long-forgotten smirk spread across my face.

"Well if it ain't Jack be nimble, Jack be quick."

The End.


End file.
